


The Oldest Trick in the Book

by ColetheWolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottoming from the Top, Cheating, Cheating Derek Hale, Coming In Pants, Copious Amounts of Cum, Corruption, Derek gets turned into a slutty bottom cheater, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Drenched With Cum, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, Hypnotism, Infidelity, Jockstrap Kink, Lapdance, Liam Dunbar has a huge cock, Liam Dunbar/Derek Hale is the main pairing of the fic, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Break, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm, Pack Dynamics, Pack Shenanigans, Porn With Plot, Public Orgasm, Public Sex, Riding, Seduction, Skull Fucking, Top!Liam, Videotaping, Voyeurism, lies and excuses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-07-26 03:31:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 49,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20037205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf
Summary: Upon finding out that Derek Hale takes on the role of a dominant top in his relationship with Stiles, Liam becomes furious and decides to take matters into his own hands—figuring that Stiles is unworthy to be with Derek. So, Liam finds an old book with instructions on how to use werewolf mind control and decides to turn Derek into the adulterous, cock-hungry, slutty bottom that he was clearly meant to be.





	1. Alpha Psychology

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Judeas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judeas/gifts).

> So, the idea for this fic came from a new friend, Van. We bounced around different ideas and basically laid out tons of scenarios that we thought would be super hot to put into this fic. It grew pretty quickly, actually. It basically wrote itself. I think I ended up writing like, 7,000 words in the first 3 days of starting... And this is only the first part. There's honestly so much more planned out for future chapters. But...yeah.
> 
> The fic is labeled with non-con, because of the mind control aspect. Liam doesn't get consent from the people he uses the mind control technique on and he's basically reprogramming Derek's entire personality, his thoughts, his feelings, his desires, etc. And turning him into a toy for his own pleasure. Reader discretion is obviously advised if you're not into this kind of element. 
> 
> Liam/Derek is the MAIN pairing for the fic. There are some background pairings, since there is a small focus on the pack dynamic, especially with this first chapter. Sterek is listed as a pairing because it's in the background. Derek is still technically in a romantic relationship with Stiles, but Liam takes Derek and turns him into a cheater. There's a big "cheating kink" with this fic, so it's not for everybody. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this. It's un-beta'd, so there might be a few mistakes here and there. I've tried to comb through it as best as I could, and I think it should be fairly readable. 
> 
> More to come.

It was an odd visual to see Derek’s loft decorated with balloons and streamers and flurries of confetti scattered about the cement floors. The loft was usually always about serious business. It was about staying focused, reading boring old books from Stiles’ collection, doing research, and training hard until the early hours of the morning on weekends. Because that’s the way Derek kept it. He ran the loft like it was some sort of military ship—rules and rules, none of which were meant to be broken—because that was the only way that Beacon Hills was going to stay safe.

So, to see it dressed up from the scuffed up floors, to the crumbling brick walls, to the murky skylight, like it was some kind of brand new party spot in the city, drove a spark of excitement into Liam’s eager body. He could barely contain himself as he stepped through the heavy loft door. He clutched a dripping six-pack of strawberry soda in one of his hands, not because soda was his preferred party beverage, but because his father wasn’t the cool kind of father to illegally buy him alcohol. He technically wasn’t even supposed to be at a party.

“Ayy, Liam!” Scott beamed from the living room area of the loft, popping off from where he was lounging around on the couch. “You brought soda? You didn’t have to do that. Stiles provided everything.”

Scott gestured over to the large desk in front of the loft’s giant window. On an average day, the desk was essentially Derek’s captain quarters—usually weighed down with books and papers and misery. But considering the fact that it was Derek’s birthday, the desk was now lined edge-to-edge with various snacks and party food treats, including bottles and bottles of alcoholic drinks.

“Oh, fucking sweet.” Liam cheered, breezing past Scott towards the liquor bottles. “We can get fucking wasted.”

“Yeah—” Jackson interrupted from where he was kicked back. “—look, I know you’re relatively new to the whole ‘werewolf’ business, but we can’t get drunk. You might as well stick with the soda, kid.”

Liam deflated, somewhat confused. “Uh—what? So I’m going to spend my whole life never knowing what it’s like to get wasted?” He questioned, setting down his contribution to the snack table.

“Our bodies heal too fast to allow alcohol to do its thing.” Scott explained. “We can’t even get a buzz going. But—”

“—but luckily for you guys, there’s a species of wolfsbane that can get you drunk once you mix it into liquid and sip on it.” Stiles blurted out. He stepped down from the stepladder than he was on after hanging up Derek’s _‘Happy Birthday’ _banner. “And I got the hookup. And by hookup, I mean I stole a mason jar of smelly leaves off one of Deaton’s forbidden magic shelves.”

Of course, it wasn’t surprising that Stiles had everything already figured out. That’s who he was. He had a way to weasel around any obstacle. He seemingly had a remedy for any kind of ailment. Stiles had a strong and sturdy, capable and calculating mind—unmoved by influence. And whilst that kind of brainpower came in useful to the pack’s after hours activities, Liam was just happy that it helped bring booze to the party.

It didn’t take long before Derek was expected to walk in through the loft’s doors into the surprise that was _his_ surprise birthday party. The whole pack stood around waiting, bobbing around to the near-muted dance tracks, sipping gently on the wolfsbane-laced alcohol. Whether or not he’d actually be caught off guard was completely up in the air. After all, he was a werewolf—an alpha, more than capable of tuning his ears to the sound of several other werewolves shuffling around inside his house.

Jackson and Danny were standing around, chatting about the upcoming lacrosse game. Jackson moaned and groaned, doing his best to pretend like he didn’t actually want to be at the party—calling it lame and boring and ‘totally not going to surprise Derek’. Danny just listened and laughed. Isaac sulked against one of wooden pillars, sipping from his solo cup, while Boyd snickered over the flirtatious shenanigans that brewed beside him. Scott, who was already feeling mild effects from the juice, thumbed teasingly against the corner of Theo’s lips—unapologetically flirting.

All the while, Stiles stood in the middle of all of them, eagerly awaiting the moment his boyfriend shoved open the doors. And it didn’t take long. Boyd picked up on the sound of Derek’s Camaro pulling into the building’s parking lot, twelve floors down below, and alerted everybody to take their places. Not more than three minutes later, Derek pulled open the doors—stumbling back to the whooping sound of “surprise” getting shouted out him by eight different voices.

Derek stood there in the threshold of the loft’s entrance for a moment, seemingly taken aback. He looked good—more than good, even. Like he knew he was dressing to impress. The dimmed lights of the outer hallway backlit Derek’s insane physique, which was only further highlighted by the navy blue Henley that he was wearing, stretching across the broadness of his chest and biceps. And his black jeans, which were somewhat loose, added height. He was like some kind of god, though being an alpha basically made him one.

Liam found himself locked onto where Derek stood, drinking in everything about Derek’s outward appearance—his sharp green eyes, his dark stubble, his choice of clothing, and of course, his body. Liam wasn’t sure if the alcohol was starting to hit or if he was just awestruck, but he started to feel just a tad bit hotter than normal, sweatier and antsy, like his blood was racing just a tad bit faster. But Liam was snapped back down to feeling just as average as he had the moment he stepped through the doors, upon seeing Stiles race up to where Derek was standing.

Everybody else eased back into their own conversations, but Liam remained by himself—sipping the amber liquid from his cup. He watched Stiles practically leap into Derek’s sturdy arms. They twirled around, locked together with a kiss, and all kinds of audible sounds that came with that kind of display. But it didn’t dissuade Liam. In fact, he had basically tuned Stiles out of the running motion picture. Instead, Liam was focused on Derek’s body, the broadness of his back muscles, the way his neck and jaw tensed as he connected his lips with Stiles’, and the arched curvature of Derek’s back—right down to the thick globes of his ass that wobbled as he moved.

“So, how does it feel to be the big bad birthday boy?” Stiles asked, shoving a pointed birthday hat onto Derek’s fluffed up head of hair. He took Derek’s lips in for a punishing kiss, exploring his taste for a moment, before pulling away.

“You know, I could hear everybody’s heartbeats thumping around on my elevator ride up here.” Derek noted cockily.

“Yeah, _asshole_—” Stiles laughed, punching his knuckles firmly into the muscle of Derek’s chest. “I figured you would, but you still acted surprised and that’s all that matters.” He slapped Derek’s ass jokingly.

Liam tracked the wobble of Derek’s ass. Heat churned in his gut. He found himself lost for a moment, watching Stiles and Derek play lovey-dovey, completely unaware that they had an audience of one watching from afar. But Liam couldn’t help it and he slipped head first into thinking about what it must feel like to be in Stiles’ position. What must it feel like to kiss Derek’s lips—to feel that stubble burn his skin? What did it feel like to press up against the hardness of Derek’s lean muscle? And what did it feel like to palm Derek’s fat ass, to grip it, smack it?

Why the fuck wasn’t Stiles grabbing onto it more. He was his boyfriend for fucks sake. _Show a little interest_. It was Derek—Derek _fucking_ Hale. He was the alpha with one of the nicest asses in all of Beacon Hills. Liam was fucking sure of it, just as much as he was jealous. Though, he wasn’t jealous about not having an ass like Derek’s. He was jealous about Stiles getting to be the one to top the hell out of Derek day-in, day-out. And he only felt a tad bit out of line for wishing upon a star that Derek would drop something and have to bend over—putting all of that ass on display.

_Smack it again_. The thought fluttered around in Liam’s buzzed little head like it was the only thought his brain could muster. But much to his disappointment, Stiles didn’t take advantage of the opportunity—no matter how plump and ready it was for the taking. Instead, the two lovebirds just stood at the door, nuzzling up against each other and talking all sappy and bantering around back and forth like they normally did.

“Okay, let’s fuck it up!” Scott shouted, interrupting Liam’s inner thoughts.

The music got louder and everybody got drunker. All except for Derek who prided himself on keeping control, despite the fact that it was his birthday party and his opportunity to let loose. But he seemed perfectly fine with just watching everybody else around him having what seemed to be the best time of their lives—dancing around, tossing around balloons, and lounging around on the couches for fun conversation.

But it didn’t take long before it was time for some party games. Stiles was the one to suggest that everybody get around to play a game of truth or dare. It was fairly juvenile, but it was a birthday party must. And sure, it was fun to play when everybody at a party was sober, but it was a whole hell of a lot more fun to play when everybody was loosened up with some wolfsbane alcohol running through their system. And if you didn’t want to play—you were a loser. That was the rule.

Everybody crowded into the living room area of the loft, taking up what seats were available on the couch and in the surrounding armchairs. The overflow audience spilled down to the floor and got themselves as comfortable as they could manage, given that the floor was hard concrete. The birthday boy and his boyfriend squished together in the center of the couch with Isaac and Boyd. Scott, Theo, and Danny took spots on the floor around the coffee table. And Jackson took one of the armchairs—hooking his legs over the arm like it was some kind of throne.

Liam took the other armchair, scooping his knees up to his chest and cozying up to himself. Everybody else was practically paired off with somebody—openly and drunkenly flirting around. Liam wasn’t. But he was excited for the game of Truth-or-Dare on account of the fact that it always wound up getting extremely sexual without much effort. It people didn’t dare each other to kiss or talk about their fantasies or talk about how many people they’re fucked, then it wasn’t a _true_ game of Truth-or-Dare.

“Everybody knows the rules of the game—” Stiles announced, standing up with a beer bottle held up high. He surveyed the players. “—you get two options, truth or dare. But just know that if you pick truth, we’re all going to know that you’re too scared to take up a dare.”

“Then what’s the point of playing this dumb game?” Jackson sneered.

“Oh—shit, what’s that noise? It sounds like _somebody_ who’s fucking scared to take on a dare.” Stiles jeered, pumping up his arm—drawing ‘hoots’ and ‘woots’ from the betas in the crowd.

Just as soon as the game started, it flew down the path that Liam expected it to. Danny started it off. He scanned around the room to pick a target, setting his sights on Scott, who was just sitting on the ground—extremely giggly, slightly sweaty, with the neckline of his shirt stretched out from where Theo had kept tugging on it to pull Scott in for sloppy kisses throughout the night.

“Scotty, Scotty, Scotty…” Danny droned playfully. “Truth or Dare?”

Scott drummed his fingers on his chin, as if he were giving genuine contemplation to the question that was posed. “_Dare_.” He responded coyly and dramatic “ooo’s” filled the space around him.

“I dare you to go get another beer and chug the whole thing.” Danny snickered, gesturing over to the table that still had an abundance of assorted alcoholic drinks.

Scott shot up from where he was sitting, slightly wobbling at the sudden shift in movement. As he turned to walk over to the table, Theo slapped his ass—encouraging him on his journey. Scott gave a playful wiggle of his hips and then pranced over to the table, popping open one of the fresh beer bottles and sprinkling in some of the loose ground-up special wolfsbane. He shook the mixture around in his bottle and then went back to his seat on the floor, throwing back the bottle and downing it all in a successive gulp.

The majority of the crowd clapped their hands in rhythmic beats, shouting “chug” with each clap. Liam laughed and clapped along with everybody else, tracking the way Scott’s throat moved as he swallowed down the beer. But it wasn’t long before Scott was done with the bottle, shouting out triumphant screams—sticking out his tongue and holding the empty bottle upside down, just to show that he hadn’t skipped out on any drop.

“My turn!” Scott noted, setting down his empty bottle. “Jackson—truth or dare?”

Jackson scoffed, crossing his arms. “Dare.”

“Okay, I dare you, to get another beer and chug the whole thing—”

“You can’t fucking copy somebody else’s dare, dipshit.”

“I wasn’t finished yet.” Scott explained, recollecting himself and his thoughts, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “—get another beer and chug the whole thing _and then_ give the empty bottle a blowjob.”

“—for at least a minute and a half!” Isaac piped up, adding onto the dare.

Jackson huffed out through his nose, holding back what was probably an arrogant laugh. He followed Scott’s previous actions of getting a beer and mixing it with the wolfsbane, and then downed the whole thing whilst walking back to his audience in the living room. He reclaimed his seat on the armchair and presented the bottle to everybody, like it was some kind of show-and-tell.

“Okay, pay attention, losers.” Jackson started, wiggling his fingers that were tightly wrapped around the empty bottle’s stem. “—always start with a firm, comfortable grip.”

The noise from everybody seemed quiet as they focused in on Jackson’s technique. They watched with bated breaths as Jackson bobbed up and down on the bottle’s stem, taking it in and out of his mouth. All the while, he worked one of his hands up and down the rest of the bottle—just for an added bonus in the impromptu demonstration. And when Scott near breathlessly choked out, “that’s time”, in a whimper-ish whisper, Jackson pulled the bottle out of his mouth with a loud pop and a cocky smirk on his face.

“Soo—that’s why Danny puts up with your attitude.” Boyd noted jokingly, prompting laughs from everybody else around.

“You’re goddamn right.” Jackson noted, looking over to Danny—who was bright red in the face, casually crossing his legs to cover up where his hard dick was starting to strain against the crotch of his jeans, thanks to Jackson’s confidence.

Liam was hard too, but he didn’t cross his legs. That was too obvious. He just leaned forward a little bit, resting both of his elbows on his knees, pretending as though he was just innocently changing up his posture. At the same time, he hoped—fucking _hoped_—that Jackson would call upon Derek for the next round of the game, hoping, fucking _hoping _and _hoping_, that he’d dare Derek to do something equally as hot as the beer bottle blowjob. Like twerk, or fake an orgasm, or _hell_—find something else to do with a beer bottle.

“I think you broke your boyfriend, Jackson.” Stiles laughed, gesturing over to where Danny was obviously hiding his boner.

Jackson scoffed. “Broken? It looks like everything’s working the way it’s supposed to from what I can see.”

“Yeah—we can _all _see that!” Theo shouted boastfully.

“Hey, fuck off. You’re embarrassing him.” Jackson bit jokingly, winking over to Danny. He turned his attention back to Theo. “Raeken, your turn—I dare you to give McCall a lap dance.”

Theo swallowed of gulp of his beer. “I didn’t even I say I wanted a dare challenge.”

“Too bad!” Jackson barked, pointing over to where Scott was sitting. “Your boyfriend just almost creamed his jeans at _thought_ of you grinding on him. Are you really going to disappoint him?”

It was true—well, somewhat true. Just going off of the little doe-eyed look on Scott’s face, it was obvious that he wanted to take up the challenge. And Theo wasn’t somebody to back down from any kind of challenge. So it wasn’t surprising to anybody when Theo set his beer down onto the coffee table and stood up from where he was sitting, motioning for Scott to follow. And Scott did—just as giddy as he had been earlier in the night when he was sucking bruises onto Theo’s neck just as quickly as they healed away.

“Liam, get up off the armchair. I gotta ride the fuck outta Scott. Squeeze yourself somewhere on the couch.” Theo snorted, snapping his fingers towards the direction of the couch. And once Liam moved, Theo pushed Scott back to fall into the chair, dragging his thumb across Scott’s pouty lips in a seductive manner.

“Wait—wait—wait.” Stiles interrupted. “We need lap dance music.” He quickly ended the party playlist on his phone, which had been blasting dance tracks throughout the night, and then queued up The Black Keys’ _Psychotic Girl_, watching the first plucks of strings in the song’s instrumental pour all kinds of sultry energy into Theo’s body. “Okay—resume!”

Theo practically melted into the rhythm of the song. He thumbed open the buttons of his tight, short-sleeved collared shirt—flashing it open to reveal his chiseled physique. The crowd cheered and Theo kept up the act, running the fingers of one of his hands through Scott’s raven hair, straddling the already debauched werewolf’s spread open thighs. He rolled his hips atop Scott, hooking his fingers underneath the hem of Scott’s shirt, pulling it up and over the werewolf’s head—tossing it back behind him, where it struck Liam square in the face.

Scott was slouched down in the chair for the most part, utterly lost for words—although he was thoroughly intoxicated by both the alcohol and having Theo grinding on top of him. He pawed his hands up to the broad muscle of Theo’s chest, feeling his chest expand with heavy breaths underneath his touch. Meanwhile, the song intensified, and Theo upped the ante. He gripped his hand into Scott’s hair and used it like reigns, tugging Scott’s head back to expose the boy’s throat. And then, whilst still grinding down in Scott’s lap, Theo surged downward to mouth at the flushed skin of Scott’s neck.

While Theo continued his performance, almost entirely seated on Scott’s lap, Scott reached back with both of his hands and slapped at Theo’s ass. It was playful, but undoubtedly filled to the brim with genuine sexual tension. Given the vibe of the night and the direction that Truth-or-Dare had gone, neither Scott nor Theo were surprised. And neither were any of the other party-goers that stared at the lap dance action with bright eyes, laughing into the air.

“Time’s up!” Jackson called out.

“What the fuck? Nobody said anything about a time limit.” Theo argued. He hopped up from where he was straddling Scott and walked over to the snack table. “You’re just jealous I was getting some.”

Scott blew out a stream of air, resting his arms behind his head. “Good—that was—that was a good dare.”

“Scotty—Hey, Scotty. You okay over there?” Stiles cooed playfully, snickering at the dazed expression plastered across Scott’s face. “Oh shit, guys. Somebody just got Raeken’d into next week.”

Theo snapped open the cap to a new bottle of beer and sprinkled in some wolfsbane. “Uh, you want to explain what the hell ‘Raeken’d’ is supposed to mean?”

“Basically, it’s that dopey puppy look that Scott gets on his face after you’ve screwed him or something.” Stiles admitted. “He sometimes shows up at my house late at night with that look—so I gave it a name.”

“That’s lame. Jesus—that’s fucking lame.” Theo shook his head, settling back down to where he was sitting on the floor before the whole lap dance shenanigans. “You’re next, Stiles. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare…dude, we’re all doing dares.”

“Good, I dare you _and_ Derek to give us a rundown on your guys’ top three favorite sex positions—visuals and all.”

Immediately, Liam perked up from where he was sitting—squished on the couch between Stiles and Derek. Finally. It was Derek’s turn to take on a dare. Well, actually it was Stiles’ dare. However, it definitely didn’t matter, because the dare involved Derek. Liam had been quiet for a majority of the night watching everything play out from afar. He tried to maintain control over the wildness of his thoughts, but could feel himself lose some of his grip, considering the fact that he was actually about to watch Stiles bend Derek over and pretend to fuck him—all for a dare.

Liam mentally tacked on a reminder to buy Theo lunch back at school—just as a ‘thank-you’ for being the one to think up such a perfect dare for Stiles and Derek. Favorite sex positions? Liam’s mind raced and flickered through all the various pornos that he frequented, which usually featured large, beefy cumslut bottoms—laid out on their backs, with their legs flipped back to their heads or planted firmly on another guy’s shoulders. Although, when Liam usually watched those kinds of porns, he tried his best to mentally replace the slutty pornstar bottoms with Derek.

What kinds of positions did Stiles and Derek get into? Liam could barely contain himself as he stood up from the couch to make room for the two new Truth-or-Dare participants. He nursed the outer rim of his solo cup, taking deep sips of his wolfsbane beverage. He kept composure on the outside, making sure not to let anybody know that he wanted to jump up and down in celebration. But inside, Liam just kept thinking.

Derek always seemed so well composed, despite his naturally grumpy exterior. He kept his shit organized. He was calculated. He was a tower of pure muscle and power and dominance. But in the bedroom? There was no way Derek wasn’t a freak in the sheets. With a body like that? With an ass as thick as that? Derek probably rode dick like a champ. Doggy-style definitely had to be one of their favorite positions—one of Derek’s personal favorites. There was no way in hell that it wasn’t.

“Come round, come round, everybody!” Stiles announced dramatically, his hands cupped around his mouth to amplify his voice over the music. “Since you nosey motherfuckers want to know the way me and my chunk o’hunk get down, we’re gonna give you a taste—minus the typical nakedness.”

Derek rolled his eyes, bowing his head down to hide a smirk. He shooed away Isaac and Boyd from where they were both still sitting on either end of the couch, just to clear up more space for the dare. Derek grabbed Stiles by the hips and spun him around—tossing him onto the empty cushions. He shuffled seductively forward until he was slotted between Stiles’ spread legs and until his shins were knocked against the flat edge of the couch’s length.

“Let’s go, birthday boy!” Scott cheered. “Give it to him good!”

Derek grabbed onto Stiles’ ankles, pulling him forward until the boy’s bottom lower half was hanging off the edge of the couch. He held Stiles’ legs high up in the air and kept them spread wide. And with his audience beamed in attentively, Derek knelt one of his knees down onto the cushion to the side of Stiles’ body and pressed his clothed-crotch forward until it was level with Stiles’ ass. He gave a few stunted thrusts for the dramatics of it all, drawing in more cheers and hoots.

“Voilà, this is position number one.” Stiles noted. “I don’t know what it’s officially called, except ‘half-off the couch’. But it’s great either way. Derek drives in really, really, _really_, fuck—”

“—yeah, the dare called for visuals, not in depth analysis.” Derek hummed, shoving Stiles out of his grasp.

As Derek and Stiles shuffled around into their next position, the near unbelievable started to become much more vivid to Liam. Derek—didn’t bottom? He topped? Stiles was the one who got his ass pounded by Derek? But why—just, how? How in the fuck did that make any kind of sense? Liam couldn’t tell if it was just because of the amount of alcohol that he had ingested or if it was just far too confusing to rationalize the fact that Derek wasn’t the bottom in his relationship.

“Wait—Derek doesn’t bottom?” Liam’s muttered question broke through everybody else’s focus, which prompts laughs—as if everybody else just knew already.

“Hah, no fucking way.” Stiles whipped around from where he was bent over on the cushions of the couch, turning to face where Liam was standing in obvious bewilderment. “You thought Derek was a bottom?”

“Uh—yeah?” Liam scratched at the back of his neck. “He just kind of gives off those vibes.”

Jackson roared in laughter. “Dude, haven’t you caught onto the way Stiles tries to hide his limp during some of our pack meetings?”

“And, I mean—he’s an alpha werewolf.” Danny joined in. “Aren’t they supposed to be super dominant and possessive in bed? Like, gotta breed their mates? Where would bottoming even factor in?”

Derek picked Stiles up into his sturdy arms, nearly toppling over, whilst setting themselves up into the third position of their ‘dare’ challenge. And as Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s tight waist, Derek turned around so that he could actually face Liam. Derek’s eyes were bright and slightly unfocused from the alcohol. There was a wasted smirk settled on his lips. He started to rock Stiles up and down in the strength of his arms, pivoting side-to-side to show off the last sex position to the crowd of his naughty birthday party audience.

“No—we’re not all dominant and possessive, Stiles just likes that.” Derek snorted. He set Stiles back down to stand on the ground. “—and no, we don’t have to ‘breed our mates’. Again, Stiles just likes that.”

Liam just nodded, still somewhat confused but unwilling to push his questions any further. He faded into the background noise that seemed to otherwise swallow up the rest of the party. The game went on as it did. But Liam just wandered around the loft, looking for something to get his mind off of the fact that Stiles was literally wasting what was probably one of the best things to ever drop in his lap. Figuratively, of course—considering the fact that Stiles made his hot alpha werewolf be the top in their relationship.

Maybe Liam was just a bit irrational. He didn’t care. In fact, he blamed the alcohol. But how in the everloving fuck did Stiles actually have the nerve to make Derek be the top in the relationship? Derek was a top’s wet dream, practically oozing “fuck me here and now” pheromones from his pores. The fact that Stiles wasn’t bending Derek over with every chance that he got was fucking insulting. Derek walked around like the alpha he was—like he owned the place. But there was no way in hell that Derek was actually interested in doing said ‘owning’.

Not with the way his ass wobbled as he walked, jogged, and bent over.

Liam ended up wandering into one of the spare bedrooms of the loft, sloshing around the half-empty cup in his hand. It was the research room, which served as Stiles’ own personal library and study. The walls were lined with old books and various interesting looking artifacts. Liam had absolutely no idea what anything did. All he knew was that the room was useful in a lot of the research that the pack did in order to help protect Beacon Hills.

He switched one of the available desk lamps on and then stumbled around the tight space, surveying every last corner of the room. The commotion from out in the living room continued to rage on, but Liam tuned most of it out the best that he could. And then suddenly, Liam caught sight of a rather large open book that was spread open across the wooden research desk. It was humungous, about the size of a mini-fridge, though flattened out into the shape of a book.

The book was opened mid-way through the contents, resting open on a chapter titled; “Mind Control”. The words peaked Liam’s interest. On the split pages, there were intricate diagrams of sketched out hands with werewolf claws, diagrams of skulls, and the nape of a figurine’s neck. There were also lots of long, wordy, scientific –sounding explanations that Liam was far too drunk to actually want to read. He tried, but kept zoning out. Despite the fact that the chapter topic sounded useful, his attention span was essentially burnt out.

And still—fighting through the drunkenness—Liam made the decision to snatch the book and take it back to his house to study in the morning. Stiles probably wouldn’t miss it. Liam set down his cup and closed up the giant book, swooping it into his arms. He switched off the desk lamp and then left the room, stopping in the middle of the hallway to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do next. Everybody was still out in the living room, which is where the loft’s exit was. They’d notice if he tried to walk out the door with a huge book.

Liam didn’t let the risk dissuade him, though. He wanted the book and asking would be too much of a hassle. So he moved forward—discounting the possibility that he’d get caught. He just hoped that everybody was just as drunk as he was. And as he made his way out into the open expanse of the living area, where everybody was just casually lounging around—finished up with their games—Theo jogged over to him.

Theo gripped both of his hands on either sides of Liam’s shoulders, stopping him in his burglar tracks. He leaned forward and mumbled something that was completely unintelligible on account of the fact that it was basically ninety-eight percent laughter, two percent actual words. It was basically just a whole bunch of hot breath that whooshed into Liam’s ear. But at least Theo didn’t seem to notice the fact that Liam was carrying a giant book in both of his arms.

“Dude, I can’t understand you.” Liam said.

“I said—do you have some lube with you, by any chance?” Theo bit his lip, swaying innocently on the heels of his sneakers.

Liam shook his head. “Nah, I wasn’t planning on anything tonight.”

“That’s fine.” Theo slapped the side of Liam’s shoulder. “I’ll go see if Derek has a bottle stuffed into a drawer or something.”

As Theo wandered off down the hallway towards some of the other rooms in the loft, Liam watched until Theo fell completely out of sight. He made his way towards the loft’s exit, trying to seem as casual as possible to avoid alerting anybody else to his theft in process. But luckily, nobody questioned him or even bothered to ask him where he was going. So he left, took the elevator down to the lobby of the building, and called for a late-night cab to get back home.

⦿

The next morning, Liam woke up with a thunderous headache. He was curled up in the sheets of his bed, still clothed with what he had worn to Derek’s birthday party, with the giant mystery book clutched under the squeeze of his arms. He toppled out of bed—yawning and smacking the taste of sleep out of his mouth. He was in desperate need of some toothpaste, and mouthwash, and hot shower, but he was too excited to dig into the book and actually read through the “Mind Control” chapter that he had briefly _tried_ to read back during the party.

Liam laid the book across the length of his mattress and started to flip through the pages. It was an archaic looking book. The pages were stained, crumbled, and torn in certain places. The leather of the binding was even starting to deteriorate. But since there was no table of contents, Liam had to flip through each and every page until he found what he was looking for. And it took no less than ten full minutes before he was able to find the section that he had been the most interested in.

Mind control.

It was chapter twenty-three out of the total fifty chapters. Liam carefully read through the pages, doing his best to make out the extremely tiny print. But according what the long blocked paragraphs of the chapter said, mind control was an incredibly rare, yet possible ability for some werewolves to master. It involved inserting one’s own claws into the back of another person’s neck—granting access to their memories, their thoughts, their inhibitions, their ambitions, their desires, their personality, everything. It granted full control. It granted the ability to rewire somebody from the inside out.

Liam’s dick twitched at the thought. One person and one person only flooded into his mind. Derek. That’s the one person Liam knew he’d want to rewire—totally and completely. On the surface, Derek was perfect—he was tall, muscular, dark and broody. But on the inside, he was a goddamn mess of poor life mistakes. That much was made clear during the birthday party’s game of Truth-or-Dare, wherein the shitty realization about Derek being a top rather than a desperate, cock-hungry bottom slut, ruined the whole vibe of the evening.

But suddenly, with the book at hand, Liam saw a glimmer of light at the end of the otherwise depressing tunnel of reality. He could change everything. He could change Derek. He could turn Derek into everything that he should be—a sloppy, desperate, bottom cockslut alpha, always ready to bend over and take a dick, always ready to ride somebody, always ready to whore himself out and give the rest of the world what they deserved. The world didn’t need Derek as a top. It needed him as a bottom.

Or maybe the _world_ didn’t actually need Derek as a top. Maybe Liam was just being obsessive—drooling over his wet dream fantasy. He didn’t think so, though. If anybody in the world was selfish, it was Stiles Stilinski. Dating somebody like Derek and proceeding to make him be the top in the bedroom was downright evil. It was a waste of the best ass in Beacon Hills. And it wasn’t Liam’s fault that Stiles didn’t know what he had in the palms of his hands. And if Stiles wasn’t going to do anything with it, then he didn’t deserve to have it.

Liam spent the next few hours cooped up in his bedroom, analyzing the diagrams on the pages and reading carefully. A lot of the pictures were specifying that precision was key because inserting the wrong claws into the wrong precision points of the neck could result paralysis or death. As Liam kept reading, he motioned around with his claws—following the step-by-step rules, practicing the careful insertion and twist of his fingers.

According to the book, the first insertion of the claws was the only insertion necessary, as it would immediately establish a one-to-one mental connection —if the technique was applied correctly. Meaning that once Liam clawed into Derek’s neck and performed the procedure without a hitch, he’d be able to push thoughts and memories into Derek’s head with simple conversation and persuasive word-play.

He would be able to make Derek forget things about himself, about his life, and about his relationship with Stiles. He could lower barriers and open up Derek’s mind, make him feel things, make him see things, make him want things; make him throw rationality and critical thought completely out the window on command. Liam knew that he would be able to turn Derek into a mindless, cum-starved slut and that’s what he wanted to do. And maybe he would, just because he could, and just because in Derek’s mind—he’d want it, too.

About six o’clock in the evening, Liam was still pacing around his bedroom with his hands flared dramatically out into the open space. He twirled his fingers around and angled them into all kinds of different ways, trying his best to keep up with the book’s heavy instructions. But then his phone buzzed with a text message from Derek—it was a group message, reminding everybody that the tri-weekly pack training session was going to start in fifteen minutes.

It was a mandatory arrangement and Liam didn’t feel like getting reprimanded by Derek, so he set aside his study session with the mind control book. Although, he did feel like he had somewhat of a grasp on the technique and was more than confident that it would work out for him if he actually attempted it, he wanted to get more hours of practice under his belt before jumping Derek and taking him under control. And the pack training session would be a great way to ease him mind so that he could get a fresh start with studying afterwards.

Liam scored a ride on Scott’s motocross bike to Derek’s. When they got there, Liam walked into the loft with extra caution—half expecting Derek to be standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed, reading to call out Liam for taking the book that didn’t belong to him. But instead what he found was a newly cleaned loft, no more birthday decorations or empty alcohol bottles, with everybody from the pack warming themselves up in various ways.

Scott jogged over to where Theo and Stiles were situated. Theo pumped out pushups whilst Stiles counted them off and shouted out snarky words of discouragement. Isaac and Jackson were engaged in a heated contest to see which one of the two of them could do the most pull-ups, whilst Boyd stood directly in front of them and nearly busted a gut laughing at how red Jackson’s perfect freckled face got with each passing second. But Derek was standing by his lonesome at his favorite desk, which was now back to displaying messy stacks of papers and books, rather than food.

And of course, Derek was looking downright illegal. His shoulders and biceps flexed as he hunched over the desk, reading through some of his papers. Derek was wearing a fitted runner’s jacket—streamlined for aerodynamics, but Liam didn’t care about all that technical babble. He was just thankful that it clung tight to Derek’s body, showing off the bulging beef of his arms, shoulders, and torso.

The disappointing piece of Derek’s workout attire was the loose-fitting jogger sweatpants, which did absolutely nothing for his thick ass. They clearly weren’t his size, considering how baggy the seemed. They needed to be tighter—as tight as they could possibly be without restricting movement. And then, maybe even tighter. Exercise clothes were basically designed to look sexy first, be comfortable second. At least, that’s what Liam asserted to himself. What the fuck was the point of Derek wearing them if they didn’t spotlight his perfect physique?

“Hey—” Liam started, coming up to stand beside Derek at the desk.

“You and Scott are both late.” Derek noted, rather coldly considering how chipper and electric he had been the night before at the party. He was back to his normal ol’ broody self. All the control, all the poise, all the rules. “Don’t let it happen again. You’re relatively new at being a werewolf, so training is extremely important.”

“Yeah—yeah, no I know.” Liam said. “I just wanted to say ‘Happy Birthday’. I had to leave before you guys cut the cake and sang.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Derek said. “We didn’t actually end up getting to that point. Danny and Isaac passed out before we could sing. And Scott and Theo disappeared upstairs on the roof for a good couple hours. Stiles and I had our own fun—and then conked out.”

Liam tried to hide his grimace, glancing over to where Stiles, Theo, and Scott were now standing. He tracked Stiles’ movement—noticing almost immediately that Stiles kept shifting his stance in discomfort, rubbing his palm against the back of his ass. It pissed Liam off to no end. He felt his eyes flicker beta yellow for a split second, before breathing through his control. He had to push back from the idea of just digging into Derek’s neck right then and there, turning him into a bottom, and making him finger himself right there in front of everybody. And then mind controlling everybody else to sing ‘Happy Birthday’.

But he didn’t.

Derek announced the end of the warm-ups and had everybody circle around the center of the loft—which had been cleared of the bulky furniture. Cushioned mats had been laid out across some of the cement floor. Clearly, Derek was about to initiate one of his famous battle practice routines, which Liam wasn’t necessarily opposed to participating in. Sparring with his friends was fun and acted as a great way to let out steam—which Liam had plenty.

“The objective is to pin your partner down to the mat for at least ten seconds.” Derek explained, thundering his voice out to everybody in a very unenthusiastic, teacher-like manner. “Stiles—come on, let’s demonstrate.”

Stiles clapped his hand together and joyfully made his way over to the center of the matted floor. He stood face-to-face with Derek as he explained the rest of the rules to the audience and then the two of them readied themselves with battle-ready stances. Derek suddenly called out for the match to start and then immediately swiped one of legs underneath where Stiles was standing—causing Stiles to fall down to the mat with a somewhat disgruntled groan.

Derek flipped Stiles onto his stomach and then grabbed both of the boy’s wrists, pulling them backwards as though he was performing an arrest. Stiles tried his best to wiggle his way out of Derek’s dominating hold, but found himself unsuccessful as Derek held on tight and knelt down atop Stiles’ backside—effectively pinning him down to the mat. And everybody looked on—snickering at how easy it was to take down Stiles, whilst also laughing at how lewd the position looked, with Derek’s crotch and thighs pressed hard against Stiles’ lower back and ass.

“Didn’t you two get enough of that last night?” Theo laughed, drawing immense pleasure from the unimpressed sour look on Derek’s face, which contrasted nicely with Stiles’ responsive wink and click of his tongue.

Derek and Stiles stood up from the mat, swiping the new wrinkles out of their clothing. Stiles marched back across the mats to the rest of the crowd, somewhat embarrassed that he had gotten taken down and pinned so quickly. But somewhat impressed that Derek was keeping himself in such peak alpha condition. Beacon Hills was a dangerous place, so it was useful to have Derek trained skillfully with combat moves.

“Jacks—” Derek started, gesturing over for Jackson to try his luck, but he was interrupted by Liam.

“Let me try it.” Liam called out, breezing past Jackson to meet Derek at the mat.

“Oh shit.” Jackson laughed, elbowing Stiles in the gut. “The runt’s on his way to steal your boyfriend, Stilinski.”

“Ha – ha.” Stiles deadpanned, crossing his arms.

Derek and Liam centered themselves for a moment, slipping into suitable fighting stances. They held their arms up in a defensive measure, kept their feet spread, and their legs slightly squatted. And when Derek finally called out for the round to start, Liam leapt into action. He attempted to do the same move that Derek had done to Stiles, but Derek was far too quick and swiftly dodged it—countering by driving the bottom half of his palm into the center of Liam’s chest, knocking the beta down to fall onto the cushion of the mat.

Liam recovered quickly, somersaulting backwards to escape Derek’s oncoming attempt to pin him down. The briskness of the movement seemed to momentarily stun Derek as he looked on with surprise. Liam took the opportunity to jump up and grab onto one of Derek’s forearms, exerting his own werewolf strength to swing Derek around and down to the ground with a loud thud.

Lying on his back, thighs open, head slightly spinning, Derek attempted to recover his standing position, but Liam was far too quick. Liam dove down, slotting himself directly in-between Derek’s spread thighs, using his hands to pin both of Derek’s arms above his head against the mat. That was that. It was over. Liam won. He had the alpha pinned.

Liam wasn’t even hard, but he was bulging through his gym shorts. He couldn’t help the size of his own dick, just as much as Derek couldn’t help the fuckability of his ass. But for a moment, Derek and Liam laid there on the mat—with Derek on his back, under the complete control and mercy of Liam, who remained knelt down between the meat of Derek’s powerful thighs. They breathed heavily, slightly overworked from all the jumping around and throwing. But their superhuman agility kept them from tiring out so easily.

“Good—that’s good, Liam.” Derek panted, staring up to where Liam remained above him.

Nobody else seemed to really catch on to how erotic the whole thing looked, other than Liam who could feel his bulge pressed directly into Derek’s soft dick. But what a sight it must have been, to stand on the outer edge of the mats and look on to see a massive, beefy alpha, with all those muscles, practically bulging out of his jacket. Only to be dwarfed so intensely by a beta werewolf, who was basically half the size, with nowhere near the same amount of muscle density, pinning him down with excessive strength.

“Thanks.” Liam breathed, relinquishing his hold on Derek.

“Liam, it’s your turn.” Derek explained, standing back up from the mat. “Pick your challenger.”

Liam’s pick was Boyd, because he wanted to see if he was capable of taking down the second most muscular werewolf out of the pack. But, it resulted in an embarrassing defeat. He ended up getting pinned down to the mat in record time, which wasn’t necessarily surprising considering how skilled Boyd was with combat techniques. In fact, Derek was really Liam’s only “win” from the night’s training session. Although, Liam wasn’t mad about the reality of the situation.

As everybody filed over to the large ice-cooler in the corner of the living room to claim a post-training Gatorade, Liam thought about it. Derek was a tough competitor, though not entirely impossible to take down. Derek had been pinned down a few more times throughout the session. But with Liam’s score, Liam chalked it up to Derek’s natural submissiveness breaking through for a moment.

Maybe in the active consciousness of his mind, Derek was a dominant champion. But Liam was sure that somewhere lurking deep in his subconsciousness, there was a needy bottom. Derek wanted to be pinned down and that’s why he let it happen—whether or not he was aware. He wanted a smaller, big-dicked werewolf slotted between his legs. It had been so easy to flip Derek onto his back, too. And nobody—not a single soul—had told Derek to spread his thighs like that, to open them and allow for the heat of another body to press up close to him. A top wouldn’t have allowed themselves to get pinned down like that, not in that positioning. No fucking way.

Liam chugged some of his Gatorade, crashing down onto a spot of the couch. He watched as Derek stepped into the living space with a basket of clean towels—setting them down onto the coffee table for people to grab and use. And then he unzipped his track jacket, pulling it off of his body and dropping it down to one of the armchairs to reveal the tight black tank-top that he was wearing underneath. He stretched—raising his arms up into the air, making it so that the hem of his tank top rose along with them, giving Liam just a tiny glimpse of where the waistband of Derek’s boxers stuck.

He almost popped a boner right there, trying not to seem so obvious as he was staring at Derek’s body. Derek’s black tank-top was almost entirely drenched with sweat. It clung so tightly to the muscle of his body and further defined the deep ridges of his abs. The abs were nice, but Liam was drooling over the sight of Derek’s chest. His tits were huge, practically spilling out from the tightness of his tank top. Liam just wanted to touch them—to feel that hard muscle squeeze underneath his touch. He wanted to pinch those nipples. He had no doubt in his mind that Derek’s nipples were probably extremely sensitive.

“So—uh, what are you guys gonna do tonight?” Liam asked, directing his question over to Stiles and Derek.

“Well, I don’t know about Derek, but I’m going to spend the night thinking up an excuse to give the Eichen House archives for why I won’t be able to return their dumb book.”

Liam choked on his Gatorade. “What book?”

“I don’t know. I found this huge ass book in the Eichen House archives and checked it out to do some studying with it, but I don’t know where it went.” Stiles thumbed at his lips. “It’s probably around here somewhere, though.”

“I doubt they’ll miss it. All of the drivel inside that book was probably bullshit.” Derek noted, turning to further explain himself to the rest of the pack. “One of the chapters had some kind of ancient ‘mind control’ technique. Didn’t work when I tried it.”

“Yeah, the book said that it’s an extremely rare ability for werewolves to be able to master.” Stiles laughed. “Sadly, I don’t think you had the juice.”

Theo cleared his throat. “Well, tell me when you find that book. Maybe I can use that ‘mind control’ shit to make Harris bump up my grade.”

⦿

Liam hung around with everybody at the loft for a while and then decided that it was probably time to get back home. He was excited to resume his claw technique practice. And luckily enough, it seemed as though neither Stiles nor Derek were aware that he was the one who had made the book disappear. They were looking for it, though it was obvious that it wasn’t the main priority in Stiles’ life. It only made Liam that much more certain that he’d have an unlimited amount of time to truly get the hang of the mind control technique before it really did need to get returned to Eichen House.

Scott and Liam left the loft together, just as they had arrived. While Scott sped through the inner city streets on his motocross bike, Liam held on with both of his arms wrapped tightly around Scott’s waist. And for just a moment—a split second, really—one of the flickering streetlights momentarily illuminated the exposed nape of Scott’s neck, sparking something of an idea inside Liam’s mind. If practice really did make perfect, then maybe using Scott as a test subject would help his progress.

It was kind of perfect. Derek was an alpha werewolf. So was Scott. If the technique proved successful on Scott, then it would probably work on Derek. The only problem was that Derek had supposedly tried to use the technique with unsatisfying results. And if an alpha werewolf as strong and determined as Derek couldn’t master the book’s rare ability, did Liam really have any chance of making it work for himself?

Just as soon as they arrived at Liam’s house, Liam pushed the plan in motion. He couldn’t just jump Scott. It wouldn’t work. No—luring Scott into a false sense of security. Making things as casual as possible and then easing the technique into action had the best chance at doing the trick. Liam knew that he needed some kind of distraction. Food was an option, but video games—that was something. Scott loved them and always got super fixated on what was happening on the screen. His defenses would be down.

“Hey, it’s not that late yet and my dad’s not going to get home for another couple hours.” Liam started, walking up to his front porch—Scott trailed behind. “Wanna play a couple rounds of Mortal Kombat?”

“Fuck yeah!” Scott enthused, following Liam into the warmth of the house. “But just a couple rounds, okay? I’m taking Theo out for a late dinner and movie.”

Liam and Scott both settled into the living room, taking their places on the couch right next to one another. Scott stripped off his jacket and tossed it to hang over the arm of the couch. He put on a great show of dramatically stretching—as if he were preparing to take on a genuine challenge. Meanwhile, Liam set up the game and grabbed the console controllers. And before long, the two werewolves were fully invested in what was happening on the screen. They blazed through a handful of rounds before Liam remembered that he was supposed to be putting his mind control technique to the test.

“Dude, Johnny Cage is so hot.” Scott announced, thumbing rapidly at his controller. “Theo’s gonna be him for Halloween. I’m thinking of going as Kano. It’s gonna take hours to paint on those fake tattoos.”

Liam nodded and laughed, trying not to make it obvious that he was plotting. He didn’t want to do or say anything that would accidentally pull Scott away from his zoned-out digital immersion. Liam moved his right arm as slowly as he could and positioned it to rest on the back frame of the couch—keeping it there for a reasonable amount of time before pushing things further. And whilst Scott drove all of his attention into making sure that his character took another win, Liam extended his claws and then crept them closer to the nape of Scott’s neck—letting them rest mere centimeters from the skin.

“I’m kicking your ass, Liam.” Scott chuckled. “You’re not gonna win if you just keep spamming one button. You have to work combos in—the—in the—”

Scott’s words slurred and stuttered to a complete stop. He froze in place just as Liam eased his claws into the back of Scott’s neck. Liam kept up his concentration, making sure not to make any sudden moves. He didn’t want to kill Scott, nor did he want to leave behind any lasting brain damage, he just wanted to see if he could actually control somebody’s mind. And given the fact that Scott had gone completely slackjawed, with his eyes glossed over in an unresponsive daze, it seemed like it was actually _working_.

There was definitely a light still flickering inside the deep brown of Scott’s eyes, but Liam almost felt as though he could actually feel that same light radiating to where his claws were prodded into Scott’s neck. It felt powerful to have an alpha under his control. And as he focused harder on what he was doing, he could see things—he could see images and memories that didn’t belong he him. He could feel emotions, hear thoughts, and run through all kinds of fantasies, none of which belonged to him. And all of which belonged to Scott.

It was working.

Liam mentally reworked through what he had read in the book, trying his best to boil down the hours and hours of reading and practice that he had done into simple steps that he could apply to Scott. Clawing into Scott was like hacking into a computer—that was the simplest way to explain it. And while Liam was hacked into Scott’s mind, he could see everything. He could do anything. But he still didn’t know if the control aspect of the technique would actually work, so he did something simple. He momentarily disabled Scott’s inhibitions and logged off—withdrawing his claws from the alpha’s neck.

Those were the first two steps and they only had to be done once. Clawing into somebody’s neck apparently established a permanent one-to-one connection, allowing for further manipulation whenever and wherever. The third and final step involved doing the actual control. And according to the book, it worked like thought-pushing and hypnosis. Liam had to be persuasive when he spoke. He had to say things with meaning. He had to take things slow and easy, making sure not to accidentally break Scott out of his disillusioned, malleable state.

For a moment, Liam just sat there staring at Scott, who was still somewhat dazed and confused as to what he was doing. But as soon as he saw the game controller in his hand and Mortal Kombat playing out on the TV screen, he jumped right back into alertness. That was, until Liam worked up enough courage to try his hand at the third step—pushing thoughts and feelings into Scott’s head. Technically, his inhibitions were already supposed to be shut off for the time being, which meant that he wasn’t supposed to resist doing even the most absurd of things.

Liam knew what he wanted to do. Scott McCall was hot as fuck. He was just as hot as Derek, just in his own way. But whilst Liam wanted to break Derek’s mind down until he was the neediest, hottest, sluttiest bottom whore in the entire city, Liam didn’t necessarily want to do the same with Scott. He just needed to prove to himself that he could actually control somebody’s mind, to make them do things that they probably wouldn’t do without a push. Plus—Scott didn’t need to be made into a bottom.

“Scott—_damn_, that’s some hot porn you’re watching.” Liam eased out slowly, worried that he was actually just about to embarrass himself by saying something so random and bold without Scott being successfully under his influence.

But to his surprise, Scott didn’t whip his head around with confusion at what was said. Instead, Liam watched as Scott seemed to become slightly uncoordinated with what he was trying to do. His fingers moved slower and slower at his video game controls and his body seemed to sway around where he remained sitting on the couch. It seemed as though Scott drank in Liam’s words.

The landscape changed inside of Scott’s dazed out little mind as Liam’s words soaked in and took control. Everything remained relatively the same. They were both still in the living room. They were both still sitting on the couch. But for Scott, he didn’t see Mortal Kombat on the television screen anymore, but rather, one of the hottest gay pornos he’d ever seen. It was all happening inside of his mind, but to Scott, it felt real. No, not only did it feel real, it _was_ real—Liam made it so.

“Yeah, it’s hot…it’s one of my favorites.” Scott replied. His words came out sounding unsure, like he was confused as to why he was saying them. But it didn’t change the fact that he was suddenly trained with laser-like focus onto the TV screen.

“You like watching porn.” Liam confirmed, pushing the thought into Scott’s consciousness. “It feels nice when you watch it and you don’t mind watching it with other people around. It gets your blood pumping, right? And you like that. You _really_ like that—especially when you can feel it pumping down to your dick, don’t you?”

Scott nodded sluggishly, shifting around where he was sitting on the couch as he tried to get more comfortable. The crotch of his pants were growing increasingly tighter as his cock hardened. All the while, Scott kept his eyes locked onto where the Mortal Kombat game was paused on the TV screen. But thanks to Liam, inside of Scott’s head, he was actually watching some beefy fuckboy frat house guy fucking the living hell out of bubble butt hunk.

Liam just watched—unable to stop a wicked smirk from stretching across his face. He couldn’t believe that it was actually working. Scott was under his control and he was more than receptive. It was like he was born to have his mind taken and molded into something far less innocent than he normally was. But Scott wasn’t the main focus. He was just the lab rat—a way to make sure that the ancient mind control technique actually worked and wasn’t just a bunch of bullshit. Liam just needed to make sure that he could push things further and deeper into more sexual territory—for Derek’s sake.

Scott started to palm at the crotch of his sweatpants. Though, he did it almost mindlessly, almost as if the fact that he was getting hard in his pants was a thought tucked away in the back of his mind. It wasn’t strong enough to make him actually do anything—like take his cock out and jerk himself off.

Liam had to push him harder. He just wanted to bring that thought and those feelings to the front and center of everything and anything Scott was thinking about. He wanted Scott to embrace how horny he was getting with each word that dripped off of Liam’s lips.

“Those sweatpants look pretty uncomfortable, dude.” Liam said, tracking where Scott’s bulge obscenely stretched at the crotch of his pants. “And you’re hard as fuck. You can’t really touch yourself with them in the way.”

“I can’t?” Scott questioned, thoughts still somewhat cloudy. But they almost immediately solidified, drawing in what Liam had so easily pushed into his head. “Yeah, I can’t.” He confirmed.

“You don’t have to take them all the way off. Just slide them down a little bit—slowly, down to your thighs.” Liam pushed. “Do the same with your boxers. You want to touch yourself without all that fabric in the way, right? It’ll feel better.”

A soft, relaxed sigh breezed from Scott’s lips. His breathing mellowed out as Liam’s words manipulated his actions. Scott hooked both of his thumbs under the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers. He pulled them down, canting his hips up from the couch cushion that rested underneath him, so that he could pull them past the curve of his plump ass—right down to rest at the mid-section of his thighs.

Scott’s thick cock sprung up and slapped against the front of his stomach, leaking a spurt of fresh pre-cum onto his shirt. Liam’s own cock twitched inside of his pants at the sight. He practically drooled over it. Scott was big and thick as fuck. Liam could see Scott’s fat girth, all shiny with the pre-cum that oozed down the solid, dark skin of his length, throbbing out in the open air. And Scott just sat there looking down at his own hardness, half-lidded and half drunk off of Liam’s influence, almost like his next actions hadn’t been programmed yet.

Liam pushed Scott further, desperate to see as to whether or not he could actually stretch his new found power to the absolute pornographic limit. He told Scott to grab onto his cock and give himself a few introductory strokes. And without fail, Scott did as he was told like a good little mindfucked alpha, wrapping his fingers around his twitching girth. The only real problem was that Scott was taking it way too slow. He stroked himself with languid tugs and soft twists, putting passion into his spontaneous jerk off session, and Liam didn’t want that.

“Do it faster, Scott.” Liam said. “You’re so fucking hot and so worked up from that training session. Come on, just reward yourself. Don’t wait. You should blow your load right now. Shoot it everywhere.”

Scott hummed, picking up the speed of his strokes. He pumped his hips as he fucked his cock into the grasp of his hand, biting down onto his bottom lip to muffle the broken off moans that caught themselves deep in his throat. As he worked himself over, Scott continued to stare off into where he thought he was watching hardcore porn play on the TV screen. He just sat there; his eyes were dark and unfocused. Drool dripped from the corner of his mouth. He looked like he was some kind of fucked out, cum-drunk zombie—and it turned Liam on so much to know he could bring about this state in even strong-willed alphas.

Liam fished his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and then pulled out his phone. He quickly switched it into camera mode and then set its sight onto where Scott was wildly thrusting his dripping cock into his own fist. Liam knew that recording Scott wasn’t really necessary, because it had nothing to do with the power of his mind control, but Scott just looked so hot. And he was right there. Recording some of it wasn’t going to hurt anybody. And even though Liam told himself that he was just recording it as evidence that mind control worked, he was really doing it out of selfish reason—because he was tired of watching porn before bed and needed something hotter to jerk off to. After all, Scott wouldn’t remember any of it.

But Liam did his best to play videographer for just a moment. He recorded the sloppy puppy look that was spread across Scott’s blushed face. He angled the camera down and made sure to capture the way Scott’s beautiful tanned abs flexed each time that his hips thrust upward. He zoomed in and made sure to get some recording of Scott’s thick cock squeezing itself through the tightness of Scott’s own grasp. And he especially made sure to capture the cumshot—because what the fuck would be the point of _not _catching that on film?

Scott’s orgasm bulldozed through him. He seemed to convulse almost violently with rhythmic jolts that matched the rhythm of the repetitive jets of hot cum that blasted from his throbbing cock. Liam watched in bewilderment, matching sure to catch all of it on camera. And he did just that.

All of Scott’s screams and heavy exhales and pleas for mercy shook the surrounding walls of the living room. But his orgasm didn’t seem to stop as quickly as expected. Instead, Scott’s balls unloaded _everything _with hard spurts, which sent cum flying up to strike Scott against his abs, against the black t-shirt that he had pulled up just slightly in a failed attempt to keep it out of the line of fire, and even onto his chin and nose—which dripped down to his neck with thick oozes.

Liam stopped recording and saved the video to his phone. He took a second to gather some composure, fighting with himself whilst he debated on whether or not to jerk himself off, as well. But he eventually decided against it on account of the fact that it was getting late and he didn’t want Scott to be late for his date with Theo. Plus, fucking around with Scott wasn’t the main goal. It was Derek that Liam wanted to get to and he wanted to get back to studying his book for extra measure.

“Holy fuck—my dad’s gonna ground me for a month if he sees this.” Liam started, pretending to be concerned. “You made a mess. Jesus—dude, you came everywhere.”

“I’m—soaked.” Scott droned breathlessly, gazing down to where his torso was glazed with stripes of fresh cum. “But—it felt amazing.”

“You should just take off your shirt. It’s dirty anyways—might as well just put on a fresh one when you get home. But you can use this shirt to clean yourself up.” Liam suggested. “Wipe yourself down before it gets all cold and tacky. That shit sucks.”

Scott tugged his t-shirt up and over his head, immediately bringing it back down to his sticky abs to wipe off the majority of his spent load. He managed a rather efficient job with cleaning up his torso and face—setting him back into a semi-proper working order. He still reeked of cum and there was a lasting shine of cum streaks that hadn’t been entirely cleared from Scott’s crooked chin. But just as he went to wipe down his spent cock, Liam stopped him—ordering him to pull up his sweatpants and boxers and tuck his cum-slicked dick back underneath the fabric.

“I’ll hold onto the shirt, dude.” Liam said. “You have a date tonight. You don’t want to get stuck with laundry.”

“Yeah—fuck that.” Scott snorted. “You can keep it.”

Liam poked around through his own head, trying to figure out how to close out of controlling Scott’s mind. “So—you’re going to forget about what just happened. You’re not going to remember me telling you what to do; you’re not going to remember jerking off. You weren’t watching porn; we were just playing Mortal Kombat—”

Scott nodded, following Liam’s words carefully. Liam could see the instructions find their way into the liquor brown of Scott’s deep eyes. He was still under, but wouldn’t be for much longer. And as much as Liam hated to have to let go of playing around with Scott, he had to know when to stop. Derek was still out there—wasting his days away without getting that fat ass of his pounded and pounded and pounded, without being what he was so clearly meant to be.

“—yeah, we were just sitting here playing Mortal Kombat, and you kicked my ass—congrats. But then you fucking creamed your pants. You got too worked up and feel a little embarrassed about it, but it’s okay.” Liam continued, adding onto the lie, nearly laughing at how stupid it sounded.

“_Fucking_—jeez, I—I didn’t mean to do that. Fuck.” Scott started to babble, pawing down to the crotch of his sweatpants, where he could feel cooling stickiness tack onto his softening cock. His cheeks grew incredibly red with embarrassment and he tried his best not to look Liam in the eyes.

“Don’t feel bad, dude.” Liam comforted, standing up from where he was sitting on the couch. Scott followed—standing there shirtless with cum cooling uncomfortably in the crotch of his boxers. “Hey, it’s not all bad. We learned that you really like being on camera, especially when you’re jerking off. You should ask Theo to film you sometimes when you guys are fucking.”

Scott rubbed at the back of his neck, seemingly pulling away from under Liam’s otherwise dominant control. But he nodded. “Yeah, I’m—kinda getting hard thinking about that. I hope Theo will want to do it.”

“You’re hot as hell, Scott—” Liam said, reaching over to rake his hands slowly across the broad muscle of Scott’s chest. It was a move of comfort, rather than a move of lust. Although, Liam’s cock twitched the moment he laid his hands on Scott’s sweat-dampened skin. “Theo wouldn’t say no to you. Now put your jacket back on and get home, take a shower, and then go on your date.”

Scott’s eyes sparked up and his energetic, puppyish personality snapped directly back into his body—albeit, he still remained embarrassed about jizzing his pants. And whilst Liam was done controlling him, Scott’s mind still followed the pre-existing instructions. The memories of jerking off on the couch while being recorded by Liam deleted themselves instantaneously, only to be replaced with the false reality of having accidentally jizzed himself during a game of Mortal Kombat.

“I gotta go get ready to pick up Theo.” Scott chirped, shifting his stance uncomfortably. He guarded his crotch with both of his hands, as if trying to hide the fact that he had cummed up his pants. “Sorry about the—well, you know. We’re dudes, Liam. It happens sometimes, right?” He laughed awkwardly.

Liam laughed. “Yeah, don’t think I don’t know that you did it on purpose to distract me from the game. That’s the only reason why you won!”

Scott grabbed his jacket from the arm of the couch and put it on over his naked torso, not even registering the fact that his shirt was gone from his body and being held in Liam’s hand. “I’ll talk to you later.”

⦿

Liam spun around with his food tray in hand, scanning the expansive size of the school’s cafeteria to see where the rest of his friends were sitting. They were all huddled together on one side of a round table, looking down to what looked to be somebody’s phone. Liam tried to hear what they were talking about, but the rest of the cafeteria was too loud for Liam to hear anything—even with the use of his enhanced hearing.

“Hey—what’s going on?” Liam asked, setting down his tray. He walked around into the huddled crowd, peering over Jackson’s shoulder, to look at what was Stiles’ phone. All the while, Stiles was kicked back on one of the table’s benches, seemingly proud and unbothered by everybody else looking at his phone.

“They swiped my phone and went into my photos and then got an eyeful of something that they weren’t supposed to see.” Stiles explained. “And if Derek ever finds out, he’ll kill all of you—I just hope you know that.”

“Holy fuck.” Danny laughed. “Death might actually be worth it if Derek uses his dick as the murder weapon.”

When Liam finally caught sight of what was so important on Stiles’ phone, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor and he was overcome with a mixture of emotions—ranging from shock, to lust, to pure anger and frustration. There, on Stiles’ phone, was a picture of Derek. But it wasn’t just a simple, innocent picture of the beloved alpha. It was a naked photo of Derek standing proud atop his mattress with both hands on his hips like he was Superman or something. He had a slightly bent paper birthday hat on his head, with a massive erection jutting up towards the ceiling.

Derek was _huge_. He was beyond huge. In fact, just from what he could see in the photo, Liam was willing to bet hard money that Derek was at least nine and a half inches long—thick as a can of beer. He was sure that if anybody wanted to give him a handjob, they’d have to use both of their hands to satisfy the entire length. And even then, Derek’s girth was so unbelievable that people probably had problems wrapping all of their fingers around it.

“Dude, how the hell do you even wrap your hands around that?” Isaac asked, looking over to where Stiles rested confidently with a smug look on his face.

“Uh—have you seen my hands?” Stiles snickered, holding up both of his hands—making a show of wiggling his long and skinny fingers. “It’s not a problem.”

Jackson scoffed, clicking the phone off and sliding it across the table to where Stiles was situated. “It’s totally photoshopped. There’s no way a human like you could walk away from _that_ after taking it down the throat and up the ass. We’d be talking to your ghost, Stilinski.”

“Well then call me Ghostilinski, cause Derek was all worked up after last night’s training.” Stiles clicked his tongue, grabbing a handful of his cafeteria fries, stuffing them into his mouth. “And guess who got to ride all that energy out of him?”

Everybody at the table either scoffed or laughed, reclaiming their seats around the table so that they could finish up their lunches instead of hunch themselves over Jackson’s shoulders to look at Derek’s nudes. The conversation evolved into something that was a lot less lewd, because it was apparently an incredibly easy task for everybody to just accept the fact that Derek was probably jackhammering his huge cock into Stiles’ tight ass every night. But Liam couldn’t drop it as easily.

A big cock didn’t equate to being a top. Derek was huge—yeah, that much was obvious. But Derek being better suited as a totally depraved cockslut, bending over for all kinds of complete strangers in some filthy alleyways in the middle of the night, was just as obvious to Liam. Plus, there were very few things hotter than a huge dick on a fat-assed bottom. And while his friends all laughed and joked around him, Liam sat there and ate his food, thinking about how fucking hot it was going to be to pound Derek from behind and watch his huge cock swing heavily with the movement.

Liam couldn’t fucking stand listening to Stiles’ shit about bottoming for Derek. It set his teeth on edge. He just sat there and quietly seethed, letting his mind flutter around with what he wanted to do. It was simple, Stiles didn’t deserve Derek. He wasted it. He was clueless to what Derek really was. He didn’t know how to give Derek what he needed.

Even at the pack training session when Derek was pinned down, on his back, slutty thighs spread open like a cheap whore, Stiles couldn’t see that _that_ was the role Derek was meant to embrace—that _that _was what Derek was, deep down inside of his own mind, even if the desire was locked away behind all the poison Stiles had feed him about needing to be a dominant alpha top. But Derek didn’t have much longer to suffer, because Liam planned to remove that poison and pull those desires to the surface.

⦿

Later that night, Liam was cooped up in his bedroom switching his focus between his English homework and studying more of the chapter about mind control from Stiles’ book. Liam already had one successful trial under his belt—all thanks to Scott from the night before. But Liam just wanted to make sure that he was ready and had enough knowledge to take over Derek’s mind. There was still a possibility that Derek would be different.

Not only was Derek an alpha, but he was also a werewolf from his birth. He had years and years of formal training from a family of powerful werewolves. Maybe it made him stronger. Maybe it made him less susceptible to mental manipulation. Liam wasn’t necessarily sure about any of it, but he just needed to make sure that the pages of the book were burned into his own mind before trying anything. The last thing that he wanted to do was botch an attempt to turn an alpha into a huge bottom slut, but he had more than enough confidence that he’d be able to succeed.

Liam’s dual-studies concentration was broken by the sound of his phone buzzing with a text message alert. He set down the mind control book and walked over to where he phone was charging on his nightstand, picking it up, and reading through the recent messages. It was from Scott—telling him that there was an urgent monster related meeting taking place at the loft. And suddenly, Liam’s face lit up with a wicked smile—knowing full well that his opportunity had finally arrived.

**SCOTT:** Derek’s calling us all to the loft.

**SCOTT:** There’s a new monster running around in the woods.

**SCOTT:** Be ready. I’ll be by to pick you up in like 5 mins.

It actually ended up only being three minutes before Scott sent another text telling Liam that he was waiting outside in the front driveway. Liam rushed downstairs, hopped onto the back of Scott’s motocross bike, and wrapped his arms tightly around Scott’s waist. And as Scott pulled out of the driveway and sped down the street, Liam caught sight of the back of Scott’s neck, directly where he had previously dug his claws into the night before for a little mind control test-run. The claw marks had healed, not surprisingly considering that Scott was a werewolf, but the sight of his neck still acted as a reminder to Liam of his success.

Everybody was at the loft, except for Danny, who was more concerned with studying for his upcoming software programming exams. As per usual, everybody looked excited and ready to hit shadowy threat of the woodlands. They stood around and fucked around, doing little dances and passing the time before Derek decided that it was time to jump into the “briefing’ portion of their urgent pack meetings. Although sometimes, there wasn’t really any specific information to be handed out other than, “there’s a monster out there”.

“Listen up.” Derek said, commanding attention. “The police department got word of some kind of glowing, fiery humanoid creature that set fire to one of the barns out there in the boonies. It ran into the woods to evade the officers.”

“_Ah_—we’re chasing down Mario with a Fire Flower power-up?” Stiles joked, drawing snickers from Scott and Isaac.

“We’re going to split off into teams.” Derek said boldly, cutting off the stifled laughter. “Scott, you’re with Stiles. Boyd, take Isaac. Theo, find a way to get along with Jackson. And Liam—since we’re still training you into this kind of work, you’re going to be with me.”

Liam almost jumped out of his own skin—elated beyond words. It was almost as if Derek knew what was soon to come. Subconsciously, Derek’s own body and mind were betraying that pathetic dominant alpha structure what was rooted deeply inside of his composure, despite the fact that it constantly tugged him down a path of unsatisfactory sexual pleasure. It was obvious that his body wanted Liam. His mind ached to be taken into much more capable hands, to be twisted and molded into something truly worthy of praise.

Getting teamed up with Derek for the late-night pack mission was the opportunity that Liam needed. He’d be alone in the woods with Derek, granting him more than enough time to work up enough of his own courage before trying to take Derek’s mind under his control. If it failed, he would have to come up with a reasonable excuse. But if it worked, Liam wouldn’t have to worry about being interrupted. He would be able to take things slow—pick Derek’s misguided ways apart, piece-by-piece, and then rebuild him into the perfect bottom toy.

On the drive across the city, Liam sat in the passenger seat of Derek’s car, twiddling his fingers together. He couldn’t help himself from staring at where Derek was sitting. The man’s profile was fucking lethal—both face _and_ body. The perpetual scowl on Derek’s calculated face was hot, but Liam couldn’t wait to see what Derek’s face looked like when it was contorted into mindless pleasure. What did he look like when he blew his load? But the hottest thing about Derek’s profile were his biceps and his chest—especially his tits and the way that they slightly shook when the car drove over a pothole in the road.

It only took ten minutes before Derek and Liam reached the destination. They pulled off of the unlit country road that they had been travelling down and parked alongside the dirt embankment, stepping out into the chilled night air. Everybody else who had been following behind in their own carpool rides followed and parked behind the Camaro. Their destination wasn’t the road itself, but the dense woodlands that met the edge of the city. And considering the fact that the darkened road wasn’t travelled on during the late night hours, it was the perfect place to park without raising suspicion.

“Do we even have any idea as to what this new creature is?” Jackson questioned, walking up to where Derek and Liam stood by the Camaro. The rest of the pack circled around. “I’m not trying to get my new jacket all scorched up.”

“Then you shouldn’t have worn it.” Boyd deadpanned.

“Yeah, why don’t you just take it off and streak through the woods?” Stiles snickered. “Maybe your abs will attract the fire creature.”

Derek cleared his throat, demanding focus. “Each pair will split off into a different direction. Stay alert and stay out of the way of any kind of fire attacks that might get tossed your way. Burns are bitch to heal.”

“—yeah, just ask Peter.” Scott snorted.

“If you manage to cross paths with the creature, do your best to subdue it. Ping out your location in the group chat and we’ll come running. But if we don’t strike any luck, we’ll rendezvous back here at the cars in an hour.”

“Aye-aye, babe.” Stiles saluted and the shoved Scott towards the direction that they were going to take.

Each pairing wandered off into different sections of the woods, quickly disappearing from one another’s sights as the darkness overtook them. Voices faded and the muttered chatter of talking was carried away into silence by the wind. The other sounds that could be heard were random chirps from strange birds and low-lying animals, in addition to the sound of Derek and Liam’s feet crunching down on dried autumn leaves and branches.

Liam wasn’t concerned about the mission. He trailed closely behind Derek’s lead and let the alpha think that he had control of the reigns. All the while, Liam kept almost all of his focus on the provoking way in which Derek’s thick ass bobbed and clenched with each of his own exaggerated steps. Liam watched. And whenever Derek had to step over a fallen tree trunk or hazardous tree root, the tightness of his jeans got even tighter—constricting the massive two globes of fucking wonder that kept under the coarse denim. And Liam could swear that he could hear the fabric scream in agony, ready to tear open at the seams to let every bit of Derek’s fat ass fall out into plain sight.

But the best part was whenever Derek had to bend down to walk underneath a particularly low-hanging branch. Liam tracked the movement with his bottom lip caught under his teeth and his hardened cock twitching rapidly in the crotch of his own pants. The natural bow of Derek’s back and the curve of his ass made it so that the waist of his jeans sat a few inches off of his body—leaving a space where Liam could look down into and see the kind of boxers that he was wearing.

Derek would look so fucking good shoved down to the muddy ground—broad chest pressed tightly against the dead leaves; his back arched so beautifully, with his pants ripped wide open and his fat ass sticking up into the air. He would look so fucking good grasping helplessly at handfuls of dead leaves, branches, and dirt, trying his best to find some leverage as Liam took him from behind. He’d be held down with the strength of a beta, forced to listen to the sound of Liam’s hips pounding into him, forced to listen to his own moans and groans and begging pleas. And he’d enjoy every second of it, drunk off of it.

As the two werewolf kept their steady pace through the woods, Liam’s attention set onto the nape of Derek’s neck. He immediately thought back to his little “test-run” with Scott and how easy it had been to claw into Scott’s mind, taking control and pushing him into doing all kinds of horny and inappropriate things. The palms of Liam’s hands tingled with anticipation as he worked himself up—waiting for the absolute perfect moment to present itself. And when it did, he’d pounce.

Eventually, the two broke through some of the dense trees and stepped into a minor clearing where a shallow river flowed peacefully. Moonlight beamed down and illuminated the area—allowing for both of the werewolves to not have to rely so heavily on their enhanced vision. At the border of trees, Liam stopped in his tracks whilst Derek moved forward a few paces. Liam watched as Derek bent down to analyze what seemed to be footprints which were marked into the mud.

“Damn it.” Derek growled, standing up from where he had bent forward over the footprints. “The creature came through here. There’s a smoky scent floating around here, but I think the creature bathed around in the water to keep anybody from tracking it further.”

“So—now what? Does that mean we meet up with the rest of the pack?” Liam asked, walking up to stand behind where Derek continued to survey the immediate area in front of them—across the river.

Derek didn’t answer. He just sighed disappointedly and then craned his neck down to look back to the footprints in the mud. But Liam didn’t really care that Derek wasn’t in the mood to answer his questions. He took the opportunity of the situation and the positioning of Derek’s body and shot one of his hands forward—clawing deep into the nape of Derek’s neck. It was without warning, riding on a spurt of confidence that bolted throughout Liam’s body.

But surprisingly, control didn’t come as easily with Derek as it had with Scott during the initial trial run. As Liam fished around through Derek’s mind—trying to focus hard on searching through the deepest and darkest parts of Derek’s innermost circuitry, Derek seemed to put up somewhat of a fight—mostly mentally rather than physically, in an effort to not relinquish control to Liam. Although, there was no way that Derek knew what was happening or what would happen.

Derek’s body twitched unnervingly. One of his shoulders kept jolting up, as if he was having some kind of muscle spasm. His arms and fingers jittered uncontrollably and he kept trying to reach back to where Liam’s claws were dug into his neck, however, his body was far too lax to exert enough strength to stop it. At the same time, his eyes shot open wide for an instance with panic and then immediately dulled, slipping under into the same kind of dazed, half-lidded, drunken state that Scott had experienced during his time under Liam’s control.

Liam explored Derek’s mind for a moment, establishing his permanent connection to Derek’s mind, which would exist even when Liam wasn’t actively pushing thoughts and emotions and desires into the alpha’s head. The process of clawing into Derek’s mind was like searching through a computer, opening up files and searching through installed software—only to hack into them and manipulate them into acting outside of their typical programming.

The first and most important thing that Liam did was the same thing that he had done with Scott. He went directly for Derek’s inhibitions—all those pesky little fears and mental rules, boundaries, and morals that kept somebody from acting out or embarrassing themselves. Liam took Derek’s inhibitions and did his best to completely disable them, freeing the alpha up for anything. And the last thing that Liam did while still clawed into Derek’s neck was take the urgency of tracking down that mysterious fire creature and toss it far into the back of Derek’s mind, where it wouldn’t register as something pertinent.

Liam removed his claws, satisfied with his completion of what he considered to be the ‘heavy lifting’ of the mind control technique. The inhibitions were the most important thing to rearrange with the claws, whereas desires and emotions could be influenced and changed in their entirety with spoken word. And since it had worked out so well with getting Scott to jerk himself off without question, Liam was excited to get into turning Derek into the slutty bottom that he should have been from the start.

Derek swayed around where he was standing on the muddy ground, unsteady with his own stature. He confusedly reached back to the nape of his neck and rubbed at the skin, which had already healed completely from the superficial claw marks that had been left behind by Liam. It seemed to be a sight of brief discomfort, as well as just total confusion as to what the hell was happening, for Derek. He seemed to know that something had happen, but it didn’t register as anything serious or threatening or life-changing.

“Hey, Derek—” Liam started, playing up the role of a concerned-sounding search partner. He stepped around Derek’s wobbly stance and stood directly in front of the dazed alpha—bringing both of his hands up to bracket the sides of Derek’s stubbled face. “Fuck! You have no fucking idea how happy I am that this is actually working. Don’t stress it, you’re going to be happy too.”

“Happy?” Derek mumbled, trying to focus on where Liam stood. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, unsure as to why exactly he was supposed to feel happy about. “Happy—about what?”

“About me helping you.” Liam confirmed. He brought one of his hands down to gently caress the side of Derek’s arm, squeezing at his bicep for just a moment. “Dude, I’m going to help you.”

Derek glanced down to where Liam’s fingers pressed into the hard muscle of his bicep, switching his glassy-eyed gaze back up to where the fresh-faced look of innocence was printed as an expression across Liam’s face. And almost immediately, Derek found himself slowly nodding in agreement to Liam’s explanation. It was help—_he_ was going to help. An overwhelming feeling of gratitude tugged at Derek’s inside, which made him slip further underneath Liam’s control.

“Thanks.” Derek said, bringing his own hand up to fold over where Liam’s was still gripped at his arm.

Liam could barely even stop himself from snorting out a laugh and rubbing his hands together like he was some kind of cartoonish villain. Instead, he pivoted around—facing away from Derek and towards the rushing river water. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts and figure out where he wanted to take this. How did he want to start things with Derek? He didn’t just want to jump right in and turn Derek into a complete slut, because as enticing as that thought was, where was the fun in that? It had to be slow—Liam wanted it to happen slowly. And so would Derek.

“Shit—you’re probably exhausted.” Liam asserted, turning back around to face Derek. “I mean, it’s hard to be you. Every guy that you’ve ever been with has probably always wanted the same thing from you. They always want you to discount yourself, to play a role that even _you_ know you weren’t meant to play. All that responsibility is probably heavy. I bet your body feels all tensed up from carrying that baggage around.”

Derek seemed momentarily stuck—unsure as to whether or not to agree with Liam’s words. But Liam watched as Derek’s fist clenched up. The werewolf’s breathing seemed to tremble. It was a response to the thoughts being pushed into his head. Liam’s words were flooding into Derek’s consciousness quickly, making him doubt himself, making him feel tired and drained and exhausted from carrying around _newly_ unwanted expectations.

Liam’s constructed reality became Derek’s own without much trouble. And although it did seem as though Derek would take a bit more work to control, as opposed to how easy it had been with Scott, Liam wasn’t going to give up. It was obvious that the walls built up inside of Derek’s head could be smashed and _would_ be smashed, given time and energy. There was no way that he’d willing give up the life that he had lived for so many years, but Liam had patience and motivation.

Derek rubbed anxiously at his forearm. He felt heavier, as if pounds and pounds of stress now rested atop his shoulders. His bones felt heavier. His thoughts felt cloudier. Derek couldn’t legitimately remember ever feeling so dragged down and uncomfortable. Even back at the loft, he had felt light and on his feet. But Liam had_ kindly_ brought attention to Derek’s neglected feelings.

“I have been tired.” Derek admitted, reaching to massage at his broad shoulders. “Being alpha—there’s a lot of work, a lot of responsibility. It doesn’t end—”

“—I’m not talking about you being an alpha.” Liam explained, realizing that his persuasive words had started to push Derek down a wrong avenue. “You like being an alpha. You like the status. That’s a role you like playing.”

“I like being an alpha.” Derek quickly corrected himself—his thoughts rearranging themselves to obey what Liam pushed into his head.

The self-correction happened so quickly. Liam smirked to himself, noting Derek’s reaction time. It wasn’t just the fact that he was under mind control; it was the fact that Derek—at his core—was so fucking desperate to please people, even when he was completely unaware to why he felt the need to please. It only proved Liam correct in thinking that Derek was an eager little bottom bitch underneath all the rough edges and dark leather and his sour personality.

“You do, you like being an alpha.” Liam reaffirmed. “But you hate having to be dominant, because that’s not what an alpha is supposed to be. That’s just what people have told you. And they’re wrong. They lied—to take advantage of you.”

Derek nodded. “I’m not—dominant?”

“Dude, you just told me that it was exhausting and that it discounted yourself and that you hated how much being dominant wasn’t a role you were meant to play.” Liam baited, stepping closer into Derek’s space, pushing Derek to remember things differently. “Those were your words.”

Mind control meant rewriting history. Getting Derek to believe that he was the one to mention feeling exhausted from having to carry the burden of being a top was just Liam’s way of turning the tables and breaking down Derek’s barriers. Derek would never admit it on his own accord. He’d just keep on suffering and playing pretend, trying his best to convince himself that he actually liked fucking his cock into guys—even if it meant depriving himself of pleasure.

“That’s why you wanted to partner up with me tonight, right? Normally, you’d want to search for threats to the city with Stiles, but you couldn’t talk to him about how you’re filled to the brim with stress. You needed to talk to somebody else. You wanted to talk to me—you wanted _me_, right?”

Derek’s green eyes gleamed underneath the rays of moonlight. He stared inquisitively at Liam. His jaw clenched and he swallowed hard, seemingly fighting through bouts of nervousness. It was his inner strength and his mind trying to tell him the truth—trying to protect him from everything that Liam was pushing into his head. But his memories were replaced with new ones quicker than he could recall the originals. He was the one who wanted Liam to be his partner for the night. He needed Liam. He needed to talk to Liam.

“I—I—we shouldn’t be—just standing here.” Derek stammered, rubbing at his forehead.

There was something wrong—just a minor hitch, though. Liam noticed that much. It seemed as though Derek was fighting harder to reorient himself into what he knew to be reality, instead of slurring around under Liam’s influence. And whilst Liam hadn’t encountered such a pushback from Scott, he had anticipated the task of taking Derek to be more difficult, just on account of Derek being bred into a family of werewolves. It wasn’t anything that he couldn’t fix. Liam basically studied his own brain out of his head just to figure out how to do the same thing to Derek.

“We’re just taking a moment to rest.” Liam steadied his words, making sure to enunciate every word carefully and clearly, allowing them to make the proper impression. “You’re the one who lead us over to this riverbank—to take a break.”

“Yeah—_yeah_.” Derek confirmed solidly, slipping back into a less disobedient mindset.

“It’s okay, it’s just stress. It’s heavy, but you can fix it, Derek.” Liam said. “You’re strong—even if you weren’t a werewolf, you’d have all those muscles, right? You could lift anything if you wanted. And then you’d probably feel lighter.”

Liam pressed closer towards Derek’s sturdy form, so much so that their individual body heat brewed between where their chests rose and fell with steady breathing. Liam was practically whispering his suggestions into Derek’s mental landscape—not because he was embarrassed or ashamed or trying to keep from other people listening in—but because it seemed to intensify the situation. It added a layer of sensuality that felt otherwise missing. And as Derek’s breathing shifted and quickened with anticipation, Liam was sure that the sensuality was helping to plant seeds inside of Derek’s head.

Derek felt an inescapable need to de-stress tighten around his body. Suddenly, finding relief and release from his newfound feelings of being burdened was all that Derek could think about. The uncomfortable feeling of being weighed down by life and the responsibilities that others pressed down onto him made Derek feel antsy with each passing minute. All that he really knew was that he was happy that Liam was there to help him find his way.

Even the air felt thicker. It just added to the new overwhelming feeling of discomfort. It didn’t take long before Derek couldn’t even draw pleasure from the tranquility of standing beside a trickling river that was basked in moonlight, nor could he bring himself to focus on the tireless task of tracking down the fire creature. He felt constricted by some unknown force—although, it wasn’t all physical, it was mental, too. His muscles felt heavy and tired, but so did his brain. And Derek longed to ease his mental load.

Derek looked down to his stomach, slowly running the palm of his hand down the hidden ridges of his abs. He looked over to each of his shoulders and biceps—noting the way in which the fabric of his shirt stretched tightly around his muscles. Derek’s breathing calmed, caught up in the slow rediscovery of his own body. He looked down the length of both of his arms, rotating them slightly just so that he could see his muscles flex and ripple.

It was Liam’s words that pushed Derek directly into thinking about his own muscles, his strength, his capability, and about how his own body could be used to find relief from all the terrible stress that he was suddenly feeling. Liam congratulated himself, mentally kicking back to watch as Derek languidly pawed at his own body and analyzed himself over and over again—pumping himself up to realize that he was practically a walking stick of sin, with beautiful muscles and a body that deserved to be praised.

Liam knew that he couldn’t stop there, though. He wanted to take Derek further and push him into naughtier avenues. But Liam didn’t want to just pick Derek up and drop him into complete slut-mode. For one, it was obvious that Derek’s mind was harder to manipulate and control. The alpha seemed somewhat resistant and could push back against suggestions that struck a particular chord inside of Derek’s own head. Asking for too much, too quickly, probably wasn’t the best way to go about turning Derek. It would have to be slow and methodical.

Derek looked good in the shirt that he was wearing, although Liam secretly wished that it was even tighter than it already was. In fact, that was something Liam knew for sure that he’d press to change about Derek sometime soon. Derek needed to show off his body more. He needed tighter shirts that left none of his sculpted body to be imagined. He needed tighter pants that would barely be able to contain the globes of his ass. And for all that was worn underneath, Liam had some hot plans for switching up Derek in the underwear department.

But Derek’s shirt was an opportunity—practically beaming under the glow of the moonlight. Liam didn’t yet know what he was going to make Derek want to do. Making him drop down to his knees and take a fat beta cock down his throat for the first time was one idea, but Liam knew that he’d have to warm Derek up to taking that kind of demand without refusal. Derek needed to be more responsive first, which is why Derek’s shirt was such an opportunity—getting him to take it off and present a piece of his body seemed logical to Liam.

“What are you thinking about?” Liam questioned softly, thumbing down at the hem of Derek’s shirt.

Derek grumbled something that Liam couldn’t quite understand, but spoke up in a clearer manner the moment that Liam instructed him to do so. “I can fix this.” He confirmed, though remained hesitant.

“Good—that’s what I was thinking too.” Liam noted. “It’s like I’m reading your mind.”

“Yes.”

“And you want to get rid of some of that stress, right? You want to just—pull it away, up and off of your body, Derek.”

“Yes.” Derek exhaled slowly, nodding his head.

“Okay, then how about we start with something small, just to ease the weight a little.” Liam cleared his throat, looking around through the surrounding woods, just to make sure that nobody would interrupt their fun. “How about your shirt, Derek? It’s basically pointless. It’s just a bunch of added weight. It weighs you down.”

Derek groaned uncomfortably, reaching both of his hands down to tug downward at the hem of his shirt. He tried to pull it off, though didn’t exert any real strength or motivation. Derek moved clumsily, like he was genuinely uncertain about every move that he was making. All the while, Liam watched—satisfied with the work that he had already done with Derek’s psyche. Derek was slow to get to the point at the time, but he would get there, and that’s all that Liam cared about. With time, Derek wouldn’t even question things. He’d just do them—fluidly and confidently.

“So, take it off then.” Liam added. “But you should do it slowly. It’ll feel better.”

Energy flooded into Derek’s responsive body and otherwise vacant mind, pushing forward to eagerly obey Liam. He grabbed at the hem of his shirt and dragged it up the length of his torso, putting on a slow and enticing performance for the beta that stood so expectantly in front of him. Meanwhile, Derek found himself unable to break his half-lidded stare away from Liam’s captivating eyes. He just wanted to make sure that Liam was impressed and please. He wanted to follow directions correctly.

As Derek removed his shirt, his chest involuntarily puffed out. His back bowed and the muscles of his abs rolled and flexed with tension as he peeled the tight fabric of his shirt from his body. But just as soon as his shirt was off, Derek felt overwhelming lighter. Some of the weight and stress that Liam had mentioned was lifted. Derek felt good…unbelievably good. His skin tingled with relief and synapses in his head fired off, high with sparks that clattered around alongside the rest of his fuzzy thoughts.

Derek dropped his shirt down to the muddy ground, not even bothering to care about it anymore. He tentatively raised his hands up to meet his bare chest, unsure of his movement. He breezed the pads of his fingers across the naked skin of his chest aimlessly—almost as if he was just testing the waters or because he was confused about where his shirt went or possibly because it just felt good.

Derek seemed—aroused. He seemed to weaken in the knees and sway unsteadily where he stood, drunk off the touch of his own hands. It was as if he had never felt this way before. Sure, he had touched himself many times—but this felt different. He couldn’t stop doing it, eyes still transfixed hazily on where Liam was standing.

Liam watched attentively, basking in the success of his mind control ability working so damn well, especially on a tough-as-nails alpha like Derek Hale. He tracked Derek’s titillating movement. Derek didn’t move his hands with any genuine thought; he kind of just glided his hands around and enjoyed the feeling. But then he accidentally palmed over where his nipples were hard and sensitive from the cold night’s temperature and twitched with pleasure.

“Oh, you like that?” Liam asked. He grabbed onto Derek’s wrists and shoved both of the alpha’s hand downward—stopping Derek from continuing to touch at himself. Derek looked frustrated at the fact that he wasn’t able to touch his nipples, but then Liam splayed both of his own hands onto Derek’s chest.

“My—” Derek started, but was unable to find the right word. He tried to bring both of his hands back up to where they had been before Liam stopped him, but Liam just did it again.

“Tits.” Liam confirmed, planting new terminology inside of Derek’s mind, knowing full well that it probably wasn’t a word that Derek used when talking about his own pecs.

But he would.

Derek’s thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his mind fumbled around with Liam’s words. He looked down to where both of Liam’s hands gently caressed at his skin, cupping at the relaxed muscle of his pectorals—no, _tits_. The word echoed throughout his thoughts. Derek tried his best to remember back to when he used that word when talking about himself, about his own body, and about his chest, but he couldn’t. He didn’t call them that….but he did….

He did.

Liam squeezed at Derek’s tits, just enough to nonverbally reiterate what he wanted to settle inside of Derek’s thoughts. He rubbed the center of his palms down into the hardness of Derek’s nipples, massaging the alpha’s muscle. And then suddenly, everything snapped into proper place for Derek. He remembered—or at least, the reprogramming fixed itself into Derek’s memory and made him think that he remembered, even if it never happened.

“Yeah—”Derek nodded in agreement, instinctively bulking up his chest, unable to look away from where Liam’s hands were placed.

“Your tits are so fucking nice.” Liam enthused, cupping Derek’s chest with his hands. “You’re so fucking sensitive here—always rubbing and squeezing at your tits. You don’t even realize that you’re doing it most of the time.”

Derek melted into Liam’s words and into his touch like he was starved for it. A desperate groan settled deep into his throat. Derek found his balance uneasy as he teetered around, anxious for more stimulation. Derek brought both of his hands up to where Liam was already touching him, pushing past Liam’s hold, so that he could grab and squeeze and pinch at his own sensitive tits. And luckily for him, Liam didn’t shove his hands away this time.

Instead, Derek watched with hot and heavy breaths as the smaller werewolf enclosed his own hands around Derek’s, taking control over the movement and intensity. Together, Liam worked with Derek’s hands in synced motion—essentially forcing Derek to massage his own tits with painfully slow force. At the same time, Liam kept attention to the otherwise slackjawed expression that was mounted on Derek’s stubbled face.

“All that training you put yourself though is to keep your body this fit and to keep your tits so nice and big.” Liam added. “You wear tight shirts to show them off—walking around like such a slutty tit whore with them stretching that fabric and spilling out. You’re just begging for somebody else to come over and touch them for you, right? Do you want somebody to fuck their big dick in-between your tits, Derek?”

“I’m such—” Derek slurred out, swallowing hard—pushing past any sort of mental hesitation. “—a tit whore. I just want somebody—to touch them.”

Liam snickered, thumbing past Derek’s hands to where his nipples were. “I bet you could cream your pants just from this—just from getting your tits played with.”

Derek’s glassy-eyed expression brightened and his eyes rolled back in his head for a second. His body jolted and his hands twitched away from where they had been held in place by Liam’s controlling grasp. And at once, Derek’s breathing quickened and his skin broke out in a simple sweat. From where Liam’s hands remained on Derek’s body—he could feel the alpha’s heartbeat pump faster and could feel Derek’s body temperature rise quickly, as if he were instantaneously amped up for something.

It was obvious that Derek was beyond turned on, if not from the strong scent of Derek’s undeniable arousal, then from the bulge of Derek’s throbbing cock that was pressing itself into Liam’s thigh. Another switch inside of Derek’s head had been flipped—whether or not he had wanted it or not. It didn’t matter. Derek wasn’t his own person anymore. He was a six-foot tall stack of muscled potential, all of which Liam could exploit and change.

“You still have tons of stress you should probably deal with.” Liam said, reaching down with one of his hands so that he could palm at where Derek was hard in his jeans. “Do you feel all of that extra built up stress?”

“_Fuck_.” Derek groaned, thrusting his bulge harder into Liam’s palm. His hips moved with slow and tight motions, thrusting sensually into Liam’s touch—desperate for friction and unable to control himself.

Liam breathed in the musk of Derek arousal, which swirled around where the two werewolves stood. All the while, Derek panted heavily and continued to grind deep into Liam’s hand. But eventually, Liam took initiative and shucked down Derek’s jeans, right down to his ankles. He reveled in the sight of Derek’s massive bulge, which was barely contained within the fabric of the loose-fitting pair of plaid boxers that he was wearing. Liam squeezed and rubbed Derek’s cock through his boxers; giving Derek’s throbbing shaft a handful of solid strokes—drinking in the feeling of the intense heat that radiated into his palm.

Derek kept up his passionately eager pace—thrusting his cock into Liam’s tight grasp. Once, twice, three times jolted forward—Derek unintentionally watched as his throbbing cock speared through the crotch gap of his boxers and into the bare hold of Liam’s hand. His body shivered at the newfound skin-to-skin contact—eyes fluttering heavily, mind dipping further into a submissive daze. Liam jerked him harder, but there was a present nagging in the back of Derek’s mind, a red light flashing, telling him that he should probably stop because he might be doing something wrong.

“Take my fat cock out, Derek.” Liam demanded, thumbing at the leaking slit of Derek’s cockhead.

“I—I—” Derek stuttered, trying to find his mental footing.

“You want to feel better, don’t you?” Liam let the yellow of his beta eyes burn into Derek’s soft stare. He smiled, innocently—giving Derek’s cock more determined tugs. “I’ll make you feel better, but you have to jerk me off, too.”

Derek’s free hands moved down. He fiddled with the button of Liam’s jeans—but from where Liam was standing, he could see that there was hesitation in Derek’s eyes. Still. Hesitation, some kind of reluctance that kept popping its way back into the middle of what Liam was trying to accomplish. And there was no way in hell that he was going to let Derek’s stupid doubts get in the way of turning him into a greedy cock whore. Liam would just push harder—add some bluntness into the mix, push Derek right off the edge.

“Handjobs, Derek. We’re trading handjobs.” Liam confirmed boldly, trying to pull back Derek’s wandering courage. “You’ve done it before. I can see all that experience in your eyes, Derek.”

“I jerk off Stiles sometimes before we go to bed.” Derek said, almost tentatively. “It—calms him. And I like doing it for him.”

Liam squinted at Derek, slightly irked with Derek’s tale. But it was fine. It could be changed. “He asks you to do it, and you do it, but you don’t do it for him.” He asserted. “You do it because you _love_ cock, the bigger the better. You’re fucking desperate to get your hands on it and you don’t care whose it is. You’re not satisfied until you’re choking on a big dick or stretching your tight ass open on one.”

Derek unfastened Liam’s pants and opened them up. He eased one of his hands down into the beta’s jeans and then pulled out Liam’s gut-stretcher of cock, marveling at the massive size as it burned hot in his palm. Drool pooled at the corner of Derek’s lips whilst he stared down, only motioning forward to begin jerking Liam off when he was further instructed to do so. But even as he started, Derek found it difficult to hold onto Liam’s length with just one hand—it definitely needed more support, so he grabbed on with his other hand, too.

A disoriented awe fixed itself upon Derek while he jerked the beta off. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around how fucking huge Liam’s cock was. When compared to the fact that Liam was somewhat shorter in stature, it made his big dick that much more impressive. Derek had had no idea that the scrappiest little beta of the pack was packing such a damaging tool in his jeans. All Derek could do was drool and keep on stroking, letting his broken mind spin around with thoughts about how good it would feel to let Liam pile-drive him sometime, somewhere in the future.

“You don’t have to look so surprised.” Liam groaned, watching Derek’s hands work him over. “You totally knew I was packing—especially with how many times I’ve seen you checking out my bulge.”

“I—have?”

“You’re such a slut for it—barely able to even concentrate during pack meetings.” Liam added. “You almost blew your load when I pinned you down to the mat during training and you felt my dick press up against your hole. You spread your thighs open for me like such a ready slut; right in front of Stiles, too.”

Derek was still locked in motion, unable to pull his hands away from where they were working Liam’s throbbing girth. And as Liam’s new crafted reality broke into Derek’s muddied fantasies, one word started to echo inside of his head—_Stiles_. Stiles, his boyfriend, somebody who he loved and somebody he was intimate with. It confused Derek to find himself suddenly desperate to please Liam, yet remaining completely unable to understand the reason as to why he wasn’t desperate to please his own boyfriend.

“But—Stiles?” Derek piped up, watching Liam’s cock spew heavy spurts of pre-cum against his own cock. “I shouldn’t be—doing this. I—I love him?” He said, but the words dripped from his tongue in the form of a question, against what was probably his better judgment.

“You do love him, but he’s not going to find out about this.” Liam confirmed, taking the chance to reel Derek back into his corner—flipping new switches inside of Derek’s head. “—because he doesn’t need to know about this. He doesn’t deserve to know. And keeping this secret from him is hot as fuck, Derek.”

Derek’s cock twitched rapidly in Liam’s hand, eliciting a proud snort of laughter from Liam as he continued to beat Derek off with skilled precision. He watched as Derek’s chest heaved harder with anxious breaths. There was a delicious sheen of sweat on Derek’s bare skin, beading up and occasionally dripping in rivulets down the tough muscle. Liam especially loved the nervous bobble of Derek’s throat as he gulped, hazily drinking in Liam’s words and instructions.

“But—”

“You know it’s hot. You know your hands are supposed to be on Stiles, but they’re on me instead, and you’re doing it. You wanted this so bad. That’s why you took me with you out here instead of teaming up with Stiles.” Liam snickered. “You couldn’t wait to get your hands on my big cock and you know it.”

A corrupted smirk tugged at the corner of Derek’s drooled-up lips. Derek amped up his handwork with Liam’s fat cock, stroking up and down the beta’s length with both of his hands and an unwavering rhythm. Jolts of electricity popped through Derek’s head, misfiring all of the rational thoughts and moral ideas that his brain tried to make. But none of them could stick the landing on account of Liam’s mind control hold. Derek was a dumbstruck alpha slut, with all of his racing thoughts zeroed in on draining Liam’s balls.

Both Derek and Liam stood directly in front of each other, with both of their throbbing cocks lewdly jutted out and in the capable grasps of one another’s hands. It was quiet in the surrounding woods, all except for their uneven huffs of hot breath and the sound of their shoes crunching down onto dead leaves as they occasionally shifted their stance. The sound of skin slapping was also prevalent—with both Liam and Derek’s balls slapping against their thighs from the rapid movement. The rhythmic sound practically put Derek into an even deeper and more susceptible trance.

Liam was still fully dressed, with only the front of his jeans undone so that Derek could jerk him off. But Derek, on the other hand, was essentially naked—and what a fucking delicious sight it was to see. Especially tinted underneath the brightness of the moon and the waves of shadows from the tree limbs above them, Derek’s sweaty skin glistened. And he just stood there, like a prop of pure lust.

Derek was shirtless—his tits flexed and bounced hard with the frantic motion of his hands as they worked over Liam’s length. And he just stood there like a goddamn slut with his pants shucked down and caught at his ankles—huge cock just out for anybody to see and come over to touch.

If only the woods weren’t practically uninhabited, maybe Derek would attract a whole slew of greedy guys to come over and take turns with his body. Liam knew that Derek wouldn’t mind….even if he did, Liam _would_ change that. And Derek would love it—he would stand there like a good brainless whore and let whoever and whatever paw at the muscle he worked so hard to keep.

“Stiles—won’t know.” Derek mumbled, almost gleefully. Liam’s hips started to thrust more erratic into Derek’s touch. 

“No—he won’t.” Liam breathed. “And you’re not going to tell him. Do you know what this is? Do you know what you’re doing right now?”

Derek hummed in wonderment. His eyebrows furrowed for a moment in thought as he tried to search his mind for an answer. “Jerking you off.”

“You’re cheating, Derek.” Liam noted boldly, laughing at the seemingly unfazed reaction on Derek’s face. He was really in it deep. “You’re cheating on him, that’s what you’re doing. And it turns you on so much—just the idea of it.”

“I’m gonna—cum.” Derek breathed, he felt a strong twinge swirl around deep inside of his balls, and his length seemed to get even harder and hotter under Liam’s touch.

“Cheating on Stiles is going to always turn you on now, do you understand? Your huge cock is going to get so fucking hard, no matter where you are, no matter what you’re doing, every time you think about what you’re doing right now.” Liam added. “And you’re going to want more, Derek.”

Derek’s body seized and he shouted out, watching in shock as his cock splashed out heavy jets of thick cum against Liam’s front-side. He kept his hips moving as best as he could, pumping further into Liam’s hold, whilst also refusing to stop jerking off Liam—it was in his programming, after all. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. And even after he made Liam cum too, he was going to want to do it again—and again, and even again after that.

“You’re never going to be able to get enough of sneaking out behind Stiles’ back—to come to me, to _cum_ for me, to be a slut, and to get fucked.” Liam watched Derek’s eyes spark with red for a moment, as if to show that his brain’s chemistry was changing. “And whenever you’re with Stiles, you’re going to remember this secret—that you’re a cheater, that you cheated, and that you want to cheat even more. You’re going to want to do more of this kind of stuff. Just thinking about it is going to get you hard in your jeans—get embarrassed, make excuses, but know that you’re a slut for my cock now.”

Just then, Liam jumped to the tips of his toes—howling out to the open sky with heavy, choked out breaths—as he blew his load. Derek didn’t slow down with his enthusiastic touch. In fact, he seemed to become even more enthusiastic—watching with a gleeful and dopey smirk on his face as Liam’s fat cock spewed out shot after shot of hot cum. The eager jerks of Derek’s hands crazed the rhythmic spurts of Liam’s dick, making it so that some of the beta’s cum flung around to strike messily across Derek’s bare tits and slackjawed face.

Derek didn’t care.

Once the two wolves settled and allowed for their breathing to return to normal, Liam slapped playfully at the side of Derek’s sweaty, cum-striped cheek, bringing both of his messy hands down to pinch at Derek’s tits for one last time—just because. Derek seemed thoroughly pleased, completely content, yet ready and willing to jump at another go with Liam if the moment allowed it. Unfortunately, it didn’t. But Liam prided himself on the fact that Derek didn’t start questioning what was happening the minute after he came. That was good. It meant the reprogramming stuck.

“I’m fucking drenched in cum.” Derek noted, rather monotonous.

Derek came back to his more rigid, task-oriented personality—the one that he sported in his day-to-day life. The one he wore during pack meetings and when on the hunt for supernatural creatures. The one that radiated seriousness and maturity. And yet, despite the fact that Derek was reemerging from the haze of Liam’s mind control, all that Liam had reprogrammed inside of Derek’s head remained established. He was covered in cum, but completely unbothered by the fact that he had just jerked off somebody other than his actual boyfriend.

“Yeah—you smell like me.” Liam said, grabbing onto one of Derek’s broad shoulders, turning him to face in the direction of the running river. “We should probably scrub down real quick with the water—just to wash away the smell. Nobody will know—but you will, just like I told you.”

Derek hummed in agreement, finding no reason to question Liam’s rationale. He reached down and pulled up his pants, which were down at his ankles, so that he could properly walk over to the riverbank without toppling down to the ground. Liam followed suit and the two came up to stand at the water. Derek cupped some water in his hand and brought it up to his face and chest, using his handful of water to scrub away the rogue jets of Liam’s cum that remained splattered on his face and chest.

The two splashed themselves down with cold water until they were drenched with water, rather than being drenched with cum. And the moment they finished, Derek walked over to reclaim his discarded t-shirt, which was still lying on the dirt. He picked it up and pulled it over his head, struggling for a moment to pull it down his wet torso until it rested properly on his body. Meanwhile, Liam watched—wasting no opportunity to rake his eyes across the lewdness of Derek’s body.

Liam stepped forward, swiping his hand down the shifty fabric of Derek’s now damp shirt. “I want you to start wearing tighter clothes—tighter than the clothes you own now. Tighter shirts, pants, shorts—you want to show off your body like a good alpha slut, Derek.”

“I should.” Derek agreed, staring down the length of his own body—analyzing his shirt and where he could see his boxers messily bunched up at the waist of his undone pants.

“Add new clothes to your wardrobe slowly, piece-by-piece, whenever you feel stressed and unfulfilled and unsupported. You’ll feel better in tighter clothes, especially knowing that guys are going to stare at you even more—holding back their urges to pump you full.” Liam eased with a smirk.

Derek shifted around. His cock started to harden again from hearing Liam’s words. The idea of more guys looking at him and lusting after him, wanting to grab onto him and fuck him wherever, whenever, made Derek’s body flush hot with a surprising amount of heat. He didn’t even question the reasoning for his feelings. Instead, he just stared at Liam and mindlessly palmed down at his shirt.

Suddenly, his shirt felt too loose. It needed to be tighter. His unbuckled pants still rested loosely at his hips, practically about to fall back down to where they had been at his ankles while Liam jerked him off. And his boxers were all kinds of bunched up and fluffed, making them uncomfortably messy where his hard cock was trying to spear back out into the open air—preferably back into Liam’s touch. He needed new clothes, just as Liam had noted. He needed tighter shirts and tighter pants…even tighter underwear.

“Your tits should be on display, practically tearing through the tightness of your shirts. And your biceps should be almost ripping at the sleeves.” Liam reached around Derek’s body, grabbing and slapping at the plumpness of Derek’s thick ass. “And that fat ass of yours should be barely contained inside your jeans. It should bounce when you walk and run and bend over.”

Derek reached back with his own hands and slipped them down the backside of his loose-hanging jeans, grabbing at the globes of his own ass. “Stiles would notice the new clothes.”

“He’ll think you’re doing it for him, but you’ll know that you’re not. Let him believe what he wants. It doesn’t matter. You’re going to be doing it for me anyways.” Liam said, watching Derek’s facial expression unequivocally brighten with agreement.

“He’ll probably like it.” Derek said, scratching at the back of his neck. “What about these boxers?”

Liam perked up, happy to see that Derek was beginning to actively bring suggestions to the table in regards to his own mind control. “You’ll wear boxer-briefs around Stiles, but you’ll buy some nice black jockstraps—you’ll hide those.”

“W—why?”

“You don’t want Stiles to know what a slut you are, do you? Not yet, at least.” Liam informed. “Only cocksluts wear jockstraps—walking around, always ready to take a big cock up the ass. And you like being ready to get your fat ass pounded. You just don’t want to let your boyfriend know what a desperate slut you are.”

Derek looked into Liam’s eyes, blushing hard. It was just an effect of Liam’s new instructions. Suddenly, he felt embarrassed to know that he loved wearing jockstraps. They made him feel so much lighter. So much sluttier. He felt his tight hole clench at the thought that he could be walking around sometime wearing a jock, bare ass pressed back against the coarse fabric of whatever pair of pants he was wearing, ready for somebody to just pull down his pants and hammer into his ass. He had no choice but to follow Liam’s order. There was no reason not to follow it.

“That fire creature’s still on the loose.” Liam shifted the conversation, reaching down to Derek’s undone pants. He carefully stuffed Derek’s boxers-clad cock down into his jeans and then zipped him up, buckling up his belt. He gave Derek’s cock one last sensual squeeze and grinned. “Come on, let’s go find it.”


	2. Smorgasbord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately following the life-changing handjob session in the woods with Liam, Derek finds himself on a track to a new life entirely. The only problem is that he gets interrupted in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm so glad people seem to like the series so far. Hopefully you guys will like this chapter. I originally wrote 20,000+ words for chapter 2, but decided to split it in half to space things out since I'm also working on other fics besides this series and it's somewhat difficult to just work on one fic. This way, I'll have another part of this series to drop ready to go fairly soon to keep you guys from having to wait so long. 
> 
> But I have 10,000 words for this chapter and probably 10-11,000 for the next chapter which I'm planning to drop in 2-3 WEEKS....so October 11th or 18th.

There wasn’t any more time left to actually search for the elusive fire creature in the woods. Derek had originally set aside an hour’s worth of time for the pack to successfully subdue the creature; otherwise everybody was supposed to return to the cars that were parked back on the main road. And considering the fact that nobody else had called to give the word that the creature had been found, it was obvious that nobody had found it, especially not Derek and Liam.

Derek had completely lost track of his time, caught underneath the control of Liam. And for Derek, he couldn’t really fight the feeling that trading handjobs with Liam had been a much better use of his time. It confused him slightly to think that way, especially since he was an alpha werewolf. He was technically supposed to be focused on his alpha duties—finding the creature and stopping it before it became a legitimate threat to the city.

But Derek didn’t feel that way. Instead, he felt refreshed, clearheaded, and powerful. Even as he steam-rolled through the thick of the woods, back towards the cars, it was like he could feel energy sparkling at the tips of his fingers. He could still feel Liam’s huge cock throbbing in his hand. He could hear all of the filthy things that Liam had spilled into his ears—all of which were still ringing through his head. Derek just couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it. He wanted so much more of it.

Liam followed behind Derek as they both made their way back to the cars. He kept his eyes tacked sharply onto the bounce of Derek’s thick ass, mentally visualizing how hot it was going to look framed by the jockstraps that Derek would eventually go out and purchase for himself, even going as far as to hide them away from the prying eyes of his nosey boyfriend. It was going to be even hotter once the opportunity presented itself to have Derek bent over—ass wobbling with the force of a big dick pounding into it. And the best part was that Liam knew that he wasn’t the only one fantasizing about it.

If the new pep in Derek’s otherwise determined step meant anything, Derek was thinking about getting his ass pounded too—just like he was now programmed to think. Liam wondered how long Derek was going to be able to last without asking for it. Would he ask for it? He had to, right? Liam was confident in his picked up talents of mind control, confident enough to wave away any doubts that clouded the future of what he had in store for Derek. Turning Derek into a momentary handjob whore was more than enough evidence that Liam could do it—and keep doing it. 

Eventually, the two werewolves stepped out from the dense woods and back onto the main road where they set their eyes onto the night’s newest development of events. Over at the side of Derek’s car, Jackson was slumped back against the vehicle’s black metal, putting on a slightly amped up version of his usual bitching and moaning. From what Derek and Liam could see as they walked up to the rest of the pack, the front of Jackson’s shirt was shredded and partially scorched. 

“It took you guys long enough.” Jackson sneered, shifting everybody else’s focus over to where Derek and Liam stepped into the crowd.

“What happened?” Derek asked, initially concerned as he nudged past Scott and Theo so that he could get a better look at where he figured Jackson was injured, only to see that Jackson’s body was fine. His shirt was what got damaged.

“That stupid fire creature leapt out of the bushes and knocked Jackson on his ass.” Theo snickered. “—and then flew off into the sky.”

“What was it?” Liam asked, swiping his fingers at the torn shreds of Jackson’s shirt.

“He didn’t see it.” Theo interrupted. “But it was some kind of fiery bird.”

“A phoenix, maybe?” Stiles cleared his throat, crossing his arms. He turned over to where Derek was standing—disheveled looking and visually damp with water. “Did you guys find anything—besides time to wash your clothes? Why the hell are you both wet?”

Liam bit at his thumb, looking over to Derek. A pinch of worry settled momentarily in Liam’s gut. For just a second, he was worried that the pack would start asking damning questions. He was scared that they’d be able to smell cum wafting off of Derek and his bodies, despite the fact that they practically tortured themselves by scrubbing down with icy river water. But luckily, river water seemed to be the only extra scent that Liam could smell—which was soaked directly into Derek’s skin and clothes.

“We—uh, we slipped—down a ravine and into a riverbed.” Derek asserted, somewhat shakily at first, only to regain his footing in his excuse. He motioned over to where Liam was standing silently, equally as dampened.

A blush of embarrassment spread across Derek’s stubbled face as the lie dripped from his lips. He watched it settle into his boyfriend’s head, rendering true, mainly because Stiles had no reason _not_ to question it. Stiles’ trust was a blind spot. Even the sudden redness on Derek’s face could be explained away as simple exertion from hiking through the woods—totally _not_ because Derek’s mind was racing back to thinking about what really went down. In Derek’s mind, visuals of him getting his tits squeezed and teased, of him double-fisting Liam’s huge cock, and of the hot splash of cum shooting against his body, flickered on like film reel. And even while his brain spun around, Derek retained a poised and proper-looking face.

Stiles was none the wiser.

“What a waste of a night.” Jackson droned, rubbing at his tired face.

“Not every mission that we go on will end with an explosive fight scene. We came, we searched, we served our purpose.” Derek noted boldly, taking the reins of the conversation, asserting himself as the alpha with some of his preplanned talking points. “I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

“Well, what should we do now?” Isaac piped up. “—buy Jackson a new shirt?”

“It’s late—we go home.” Derek answered, rather pensively. He strode over to his car. “You guys have school tomorrow anyways. Get some sleep and take this all as a lesson learned—being a part of a pack of werewolves isn’t always fun and productive.”

“—and don’t let your guard down in the middle of dark woods unless you want your clothes torn to shreds.” Scott laughed, elbowing Stiles—brining him into the taunting.

“Yeah—” Stiles laughed. “—and not in a sexy way.”

⦿

The next day, Derek was cooped up in his loft. He was supposed to be tucked away behind his desk, reading through the immense stack of books that waited for him, but instead, he was searching around the house for the large book that Stiles had rented from Eichen House and then lost. After all, Stiles was never going to get around to actually finding the missing book and the overdue fee would fall upon Derek’s shoulders and wallet. Plus, it wasn’t like he was all that busy.

The rest of the pack members were in school. And considering the fact that it was midday, they were probably all shuffling into the cafeteria and stuck eating the miserable old food that was served up. Derek was almost positive that Beacon Hills High was serving the same kind of unsatisfying meals that they served back when he was a student. And honestly, that fact alone made Derek feel completely content in his missing book search—regardless of how tedious and unproductive it seemed to be.

Derek waded into Stiles’ personal study, figuring that that was probably the last place that the missing book was located, which meant there was a high probability that Stiles “misplaced” it by simply setting it aside somewhere in the room and then forgetting about it. Derek surveyed the room, which was heavily cluttered and seemingly in complete disarray, and yet Stiles was perfectly fine operating out of the room without complaints. There were books and papers shuffled around everywhere, random antiquities, and jars of unknown herbs and specimens, not to mention the abundance of empty soda cans.

It was difficult to look through, but Derek tried his best—nearly giving up multiple times in all but ten minutes of looking. Whatever, that was his best. Derek then turned his focus onto the large, solid wooden desk and scanned the surface, not finding much luck in spotting the massive book. So then he knelt down onto paper-covered ground in order to look underneath the desk, figuring that it was somewhere something could hide. And seeing as how it was simply more empty space, Stiles naturally stuffed more clutter into it.

Derek continued to try his luck, but couldn’t find success. He pulled boxes out from under Stiles’ desk, only to shove them aside when they proved themselves to be unimportant in what Derek was searching for. All the while, Derek continuously swept his forearm across where sweat beaded at his forehead. The inside of the loft was starting to feel a lot like a sauna on a hot summer’s day. Even though the air-conditioner was on, Derek found himself steeping in a feverish sweat.

And as Derek fumbled around with stacks of messy paper, he grew increasingly uncomfortable—dampened by the tackiness of his own sweat. He stood up from where he had been knelt down at the edge of Stiles’ heavy desk, taking a moment to recollect his thoughts and patience. Although, the moment that he stood up, a brief wave of lightheadedness washed over Derek’s mind—leaving his balance momentarily unsteady. Naturally, Derek likened it to the heat. But the loft, itself, was cold. Derek was just hot.

He pulled off his t-shirt and sighed with relief as the quick jostle of movement blew a much needed gust of fresh air across the expanse of his naked torso. But unfortunately, the relief didn’t last for that long. The stifling feeling of heat crept back, but this time, brought with it a relentlessness that flushed through Derek’s veins and sped through his system. Derek paced around the room, using his shirt as a towel to wipe down the wet muscle of his body, quickly forgetting that he was supposed to be searching for a lost book.

Derek couldn’t really concentrate. That was the problem, even though Derek didn’t really see it as being a problem. His train of thought had derailed, parting him from his responsibilities and daily duties. The change of course charged Derek forward into a completely different territory—one that was disconnected from needing to feel effective and dutiful in the lonesome of his days, and into a headspace that seemed determined to seek pleasure and exploration of a lewd variety.

It felt like there were tiny sparks of fire prickling at Derek’s skin, pushing him into touching his body—slowly and timidly, but mesmerized by how good it felt. Derek set down his soiled t-shirt and grazed his fingertips against the meat of his arms, where his biceps involuntarily flexed. He thumbed up the ridges of his abs and up to his chest, accidentally breezing across the sensitive plates of his nipples. And immediately, Derek’s knees buckled.

A cruel shiver gripped at the nerves of Derek’s spine, sparking through his body and skin. He stumbled around clumsily—his feet catching haphazardly at some of the boxes that were still scattered around the floor. Derek could even hear the speed of his blood pumping around inside of his dazed little brain. All he really knew was that he was getting hornier and hornier by the second, refusing to even bother thinking about doing Stiles’ chores.

Right then, there was a flash of heat that punched itself deep inside of Derek’s ass—making his body jolt violently and scream and quiver with an unbelievably sudden amount of pleasure. Derek cried out, completely accidentally. He wasn’t expecting to make any sound, but it happened so quickly. The whimper chirped out of his throat before he could stop it from happening. The surges of pleasure coursing through his body—it all felt incredible, almost too much. Derek couldn’t handle it and he couldn’t cool himself down.

Derek gnawed at his thumb, lost inside of the whirlwind of heat that picked up inside of his mind. He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair and then rubbed at his eyes, which only started to become watery with strain as stinging pleasure rocked through his body. But eventually, Derek’s frantic and confused pacing around landed himself in the corner of the room, directly in front of a body-length mirror that usually only reflected the unseemly sight of messy papers and books atop Stiles’ desk.

But now, the mirror just reflected back the sight of a slightly desperate and touch-starved Derek Hale, who was shirtless and gleaming with sweat. His hair was tousled around from his own frantic tugging at it and his skin was flushed with an obvious pink hue of arousal. On display, just as prominent as ever, was the beef of Derek’s chest—tits flexed and puffed out, nipples already hard—ready to be pinched and teased.

There was a piece of Derek, stuffed far off into the back of his mind, that thought perhaps he should feel embarrassed for falling into such a random bout of horniness like he was some kind of hormonal teenager. But there was a problem, because Derek didn’t feel embarrassed. He felt good. He felt proud, even. He felt eager to push forward into embracing the heat which swirled deep in his gut and hardened his cock and fueled a desire to please.

But please who? Himself? His pack? Stiles? Stiles—that was the first person that popped up into his head, but it happened on instinct, not choice. And Derek couldn’t fight how wrong Stiles started to feel inside of his thoughts and in his fantasies. Stiles _was_—but was no longer the person that Derek felt most eager to please and derive pleasure from. Not Stiles. For Derek, the new choice was obvious. The runt of his pack—_Liam_.

Derek continued to stare into the mirror, captivated by the sight of his reflection. It befuddled him. There was something that he didn’t recognize, something that had been recently fucked into the depths of his existence, something that hadn’t completely cemented itself. And Derek saw it as a new flicker of confidence and submissive desperation in the watery green of his eyes. It almost made Derek want to say that he wasn’t even staring at himself, but a stranger instead. But that wasn’t the case—and Derek couldn’t bear to break away from raking his own eyes over the stacks of muscle of his own body.

It didn’t take long before Derek found both of his hands gliding down the ridges of his sweaty abs, down to the fastened buckle of his belt. He refused to look away from where he continued to stare into the mirror—practically getting drunk off the hot reflection of his own body. Derek eagerly undid his pants and pulled them down to his ankles, kicking them off to the ground so that he could just stand there for a moment in nothing but the pair of boxers-briefs that he was wearing.

The boxer-briefs were tight, yet felt too loose for Derek’s newfound liking. He hadn’t gotten around to doing any shopping for jockstraps yet. The boxer-briefs were something for more of Stiles’ benefit, as they were what Stiles found the sexiest. Plus, Derek knew that there was a possibility that Stiles would get curious and start questioning the reason as to why Derek had a sudden shift in what he wore underneath his clothes. So Derek kept himself locked up with boxer-briefs for the time being.

Still—the fabric of the boxers were of a thin material and did absolutely nothing to contain the massive bulge of Derek’s already hardened cock, which laid horizontally against the meat of his upper thigh, still clothed. But when he shifted his stance and moved around and palmed at himself, Derek’s huge cock twitched and bounced around inside the tightened crotch of his boxers, just begging to flop out into the open air of the cluttered room.

Another surge of anticipatory heat struck through Derek’s system, prompting him to tear down his boxer-briefs and remove them from where they were settled at his feet. His body jolted as he beamed into his reflection, even further enticed by how beside himself he looked. Derek normally looked so put together and stern and domineering, but he definitely looked more like some kind of virgin about to get his dick touched for the first time.

Derek roped the meat of his huge cock into his hands and immediately started with impatient and greedy tugs. He couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting involuntarily into his firm grip, nor could he stop the way his body teetered around before crashing back into the heavy wooden desk in the center of the room. And whilst keeping one of his hands down at his dick, Derek used his other arm to reach back and sweep across the surface of the desk—instantly de-cluttering it by pushing most of the research materials down to the messy ground.

He hopped up onto the newly cleared desk—his thick thighs splayed open like he was some kind of total slut. Derek continued to stroke his cock with both of his hands, watching himself in the mirror. His legs dangled off the edge of the desk and his toes curled with pleasure as pleasure swirled around inside the depths of his balls. As he stroked himself, harder and faster—desperately seeking an orgasm—he tossed his head back and stared up into the pendant light that hung down from the ceiling.

Derek swiveled around where he was sitting down on the solidly-even wooden surface of the desk, but the plumpness of his ass cushioned him from growing uncomfortable. If anything, Derek just felt even more turned on as the desire to have his ass touched and squeezed and teased began to scratch at his already lustful thoughts. He bit down onto his bottom lip and thumbed hard at the leaking tip of his dick, watching in the mirror as a thick glob of pre-cum oozed down the length of his incredible shaft.

Desperately, Derek scooped up his legs from where they were hanging off the edge of the desk. He spun his body around so that he could lay down length-ways atop the desk and face away from the mirror, leaning backwards until the muscle of his back muscles and shoulders pressed firmly against the wood. He laid there for a moment, both of his hands still wrapped around his fat cock, surveying the moment and thinking about how bold he was for doing what he was doing.

With one of his hands kept prominently at his dick, Derek continued to stroke himself the best that he could. But with his second hand, he rubbed at his tits and then down to his stomach, past his crotch, and then down to curve his fingers so that he could touch closer to where his tight virgin hole was begging to be breached. He stretched and reached, inching the tips of his index and middle finger into the aura of heat that radiated from the lower half of his body—

But then Derek’s hypersensitive werewolf hearing perked up to the sound of the loft’s doors getting shoved open. Derek’s heart nearly exploded outside of his already heaving chest. He rolled off of the desk and fumbled around with his discarded jeans, completely forgoing an attempt to put back on his boxers. He stuffed his huge cock down into the confines of his jeans, mentally freaking out over the fact that his throbbing bulge was still incredibly visible and whoever he’d have to greet at the front door would certainly get an eyeful.

A twinge of frustration boiled up inside of Derek’s chest, rising up alongside the feeling of panic and anxiousness that was already there. He was so close—Derek could practically feel his orgasm teetering on the edge, only to feel it quickly retreat and simmer down. It pissed him off. Everybody else in the pack managed to find their time to fuck around and get each other off—sometimes in the loft—but the one time that Derek slipped into a feverish need to bust a load, somebody decided to interrupt.

The only highlight of the intrusion was Derek’s curiosity. As he pulled his shirt back over his sweaty chest, he thought about who might be at the loft. It could be anybody, really. But deep down inside, Derek hoped it would be Liam, swinging by the loft for some afternoon attention. Derek’s hole twitched and clenched at the thought that he’d swing around the corner to find Liam standing there—massive cock hanging over the waistband of his jeans.

He wished. He hoped. But Derek was only met with the striking burn of disappointment when he rounded the corner and hesitantly strolled in the main living area of the loft. It wasn’t Liam, it was Stiles. And Derek was somewhat dumbfounded as to the strong feelings of disappointment that surged around inside of his body. _Stiles_—was his boyfriend. Derek should have felt happy and excited at the surprise. But Derek only felt saddened by the fact that Liam wasn’t standing right there in front him, nor could he shake away how annoying it was that Stiles interrupted his private time. 

“Aren’t—aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Derek asked, gulping down the breathlessness that gripped hard at his ability to speak clearly. He carefully tracked the way that Stiles walked over to the couch across the room.

“Yeah, it’s lunch—so I decided to come hang here before I have to go back.” Stiles explained, reaching into his backpack. He pulled out a greasy fast-food bag and held it up in the air. “I got us some burgers from down the street.”

Derek nodded, trying his best to seem nonchalant about the whole thing. Meanwhile, Stiles continued to hold the bag of burgers up into the air, raking his eyes down Derek’s body. He analyzed the alpha—taking note of how sweaty and messy and out-of-breath Derek seemed to be. His first instinct was to think that something was wrong, but then Stiles looked down to where Derek was obviously hard and nearly about to bust the zipper off the front of his jeans.

“Thanks.” Derek mumbled, taking the fast food bag out from Stiles’ grasp, rounding the coffee table and taking a seat on the couch.

“Did I—uh—interrupt something?” Stiles chuckled, clicking his tongue down in the direction of Derek’s fat bulge. “I didn’t mean to fuck up your special personal time.”

“You—you didn’t. It’s fine.” Derek said, unwrapping one of the burgers from the bag.

“Oh? So you’re just happy to see me?” Stiles laughed, taking the burger out of Derek’s hand. He leaned forward, taking Derek’s lips in for a kiss—dipping his tongue just slightly into the softness of Derek’s mouth. And Derek groaned—hard, but grunted, like he didn’t want to relish in it.

Derek tried to melt into Stiles’ taste, but it didn’t happen. At least—not like it usually did. It felt different, somewhat forced, somewhat muted in its effects. A kiss like that would normally set Derek’s body on fire with bolts of pleasure, but it didn’t feel like that this time and Derek knew why. And while Derek continue to kiss Stiles, all he could really think about was how much he wanted to grab onto Stiles’ fingers and tug them down to where he was about to finger himself—all before Derek got interrupted by Stiles’ arrival. 

But then Stiles pulled away from the kiss and slid off the cushion of the couch, falling to his knees and eagerly slotting himself in-between Derek’s thighs. Derek watched from where he remained on the couch as Stiles’ nimble fingers worked over the button of his jeans. Before long, Stiles undid Derek’s jeans and pulled them open, laughing out in amazement in the way that the werewolf’s huge cock jut out—completely unhindered by the lack of boxer-briefs.

“Did you forget to put on boxers this morning?” Stiles chuckled, wrapping his hands around Derek’s shaft. “Or were you just eager for me to blow you?”

“Yeah—” Derek muttered apathetically, wrapping his hand around the back of Stiles’ head. He brought the boy’s head down to where his cock throbbing in salute—though not in salute for his boyfriend and not in salute to the idea of getting a blowjob. Derek’s body ached for more—for what Stiles _didn’t_ give.

Unsurprisingly, Stiles took Derek’s cock down to the root with ease. Practice made perfect, and Stiles had certainly had a lot of that. Derek just tried his best to fall into the routine. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to rest against the brick wall behind the couch. All the while, Derek guided the passionate bobbing motion of Stiles’ mouth work.

It felt good, obviously. Stiles gave great head. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Derek shifted around uncomfortably around where he sat on the couch, unable to fully get into the pleasure of getting his cock sucked. Derek’s mind raced with thoughts, none of which pertained to Stiles. But rather, back to how flushed hot and ready he had been back in the study, spread out on that table, reaching down to his own tightness with his fingers.

As Stiles’ throat definitely did its best to stretch around Derek’s fat cock, the back of Derek’s own throat itched annoyingly. He kept clearing it, swallowing down his saliva, but it didn’t really help. It was a reaction to the desires that permeated in the back of his mind. And all that Derek could really think about was Liam and what would have happened if Liam had been the one to show up at the loft instead of Stiles.

A fantasy and collection of fabricated images of being bent to Liam’s mercy flickered on the backs of Derek’s closed eyelids like pornography. Derek thought hard about it, biting down on his lip as the images brought him closer and closer to busting his load. He couldn’t help himself, though. The visuals of Liam’s face, his body, and his gut-stretcher cock were so vivid. So Derek gladly let the thoughts run wild, completely pushing the reality of Stiles further and further away until the human wasn’t much of an interruption anymore.

Derek’s frustration with being ripped away from his release began to mix around with Stiles—to the point that the two individual elements became synonymous with one another. But the fantasy of Liam was the remedy. Derek’s mind raced back to how eager he had felt upon thinking that Liam was the one at the front door of the loft—before he rounded the corner to find Stiles standing there, holding a bag of grease in his hands. Fast food? A lousy excuse for interrupting a potential orgasm. At least, had it been Liam instead of Stiles, Derek would have rounded the corner to the sight of Liam’s huge cock demanding attention.

Suddenly, Derek was irked again. Not at the fast-food, but how expectant Stiles had been the moment that he saw how disheveled and sweaty Derek was. He immediately saw it as an opportunity to take advantage—to get down on his knees and give a blowjob, without even bothering to think about what Derek wanted to do. That’s how Stiles operated, especially in regards to sex. But Derek knew that had _Liam_ been the one to come to the loft, Liam would have certainly commented on Derek’s disheveled look—likening it to how desperate and slutty Derek was.

In his head, Derek imagined being stranded in Stiles’ study—surrounded by the towers of clutter and old books, standing there in front of the mirror, completely naked and hard as a rock. He imagined what would have happened had Liam walked into the room to discover him standing there. Derek thought—he’d try to cover himself up, out of pure instinct, using his own discarded black boxer-briefs as a pathetic cover to mask the throbbing hardness of his dick. But of course, it wouldn’t have helped—not even in Derek’s fantasy did it work out.

Liam would have walked into the room and saw everything. He would have stopped and stared at Derek standing there in the middle of the room, unable to completely cover his own length with his pair of boxer-briefs. Instead, Liam would have laughed to himself underneath his breath at Derek’s need for composure and modesty. Liam would have raked his eyes over Derek’s open body. He would have watched Derek shiver in his own nakedness, his beefy tits plumped up and flexed. Liam would have easily peaked around where Derek was standing to look into the mirror—only to check out the reflection of the fat globes of Derek’s fuckable ass.

And there wouldn’t have been anything that Derek could have done to stop it. Derek knew that he would have wanted attention—the comforting care of Liam’s words. But inside of his fantasy, Liam wouldn’t have been so willing. But rather, Liam would have drank in every bit of Derek’s body, refusing to even acknowledge the wanting gaze of Derek’s lustful eyes. Liam would have instead kept his eyes on Derek’s muscle, on his glistening skin, on his hardened nipples, his tits, and on his poorly covered fattened cock. Derek would have had no choice but to stand there and take it—the objectification, the sure fire spew of filthy words that would have dripping off of Liam’s tongue.

Derek could imagine it so vividly—the sound of Liam’s voice, calling him all kinds of things. Telling him what a desperate whore he was, how slutty he looked standing there and waiting for somebody to walk into the loft and fuck him right. The fantasy of it all drove Derek mad. It made his cock twitch hard and his heartbeat pound in his chest like thunder. He wanted it—he wanted the fantasy, but he wanted it to be real. And damn Stiles for ruining the chance.

It was impossible for Derek to fight the feeling that that was what he really wanted—to be noticed as the slut that he actually was and to be seen for what he had the ability to perform. To suck cock, rather than to just get his cock sucked. Sure, Stiles was good at sucking cock—but Derek thought himself to be more capable and more talented, partly out of sheer confidence and partly from the things that Liam rearranged inside of his head. And if Liam had been the one to show up at the loft, Derek would have proved it so. His body would have been quivering with the hunger to do so. Derek knew that_ he_ would have been the one on his knees, settled in-between somebody’s thighs, feeling the stinging pleasure of pressure shove against the back of his eager throat.

Derek felt his mouth water at the fantasy the continued to cook up inside of his dirty thoughts. He lapped at his lips, keeping his eyes closed, completely forgetting about Stiles—who remained on his knees. Instead of providing encouragement to Stiles like he normally did, Derek imagined himself knelt down between Liam’s thighs, looking up through watery vision at a satisfied expression on Liam’s face. All the while, Derek would have been doing his damn best to accommodate Liam’s girth and length, pushing himself to the edge and feeling himself grow lightheaded and dopily dazed from exertion.

What would happen? How would Liam do it? Derek furrowed his eyebrows in contemplation, finally settling onto the vivid mental image of Liam pulling his massive length out of Derek’s throat—choosing to blow his load all over Derek’s body. And Derek would take it. He’d enjoy it. He’d get off to it, watching Liam pick his backpack up from the couch and head off to class, leaving Derek there on the concrete of the loft’s floor—cum oozing down his face and dripping down to stain the plumpness of his pinched-up tits with a sticky reminder of his own adultery.

And then Derek would be satisfied.

Without warning, Derek was pulled back to reality. He came with a shout, shoving Stiles’ head down without much care for the human’s wellbeing or ability to breathe. He whimpered out into the openness of the loft, keeping his eyes shut tight and keeping Stiles’ head forced down into his lap. Derek rode out his orgasm and blasted his load down the tight warmth of his boyfriend’s throat. All the while, Derek drank in Stiles’ gurgles and chokes, feeling a pang of satisfaction spread throughout his body, letting it remedy some of his frustration with Stiles for being the one to steal his afternoon.

Liam’s words from the night before then settled into Derek’s head and rattled around, demanding attention. The words repeated, soothingly drifting through Derek’s cum drunkenness—“come to me, to cum for me, to be a slut, and to get fucked”. And Derek wanted it so fucking bad. His body ached for it. His cock twitched hard where it remained inside of Stiles’ throat—threatening to thicken back up to full hardness, just at the thought of hopping into his car and driving across town to find Liam.

But Liam was still in school.

Stiles pulled off of Derek’s cock—his face beaten red and flushed with sweat. His lips were puffy and wet and red from all of the abuse that he had taken, but there was still a brightness of eagerness settled in Stiles’ hazel eyes, which were watery from the strain of sucking a fat cock. And just as eagerly as he had been in the beginning, Stiles leapt up from where he had been knelt down and started to unbuckle his own pants.

“Wanna help me take care of mine before I have to get back to class?” Stiles asked, shoving his hand down the front of his own pair of boxers, pulling at where he was hard and throbbing and expectantly awaiting Derek’s helping hand.

Derek watched as Stiles pulled his own hard cock out through the opening in his boxers, letting it spear forward into the open space between the two of them. But Stiles wasn’t asking for a blowjob, he wanted somebody to jerk him off—quick and fast. Derek just stared at Stiles’ cock for a moment, momentarily puzzled as to why he wasn’t all that interested in helping Stiles out. He just wasn’t up for it.

“I have to run down to the mall, actually.” Derek jumped up from where he had been sitting on the couch. He tucked his own spent cock back into the confines of his jeans and walked across the room to the edge of his bed, bending down to pick up his leather boots. “You should get back to school, babe.” He said, unsympathetic to the look of disappointed annoyance that spread across Stiles’ face.

Derek walked back over to Stiles, kissing him on the forehead, and then strolled out of the loft—shutting the door behind him. Stiles stood there at the couch—hard dick jutting out from the opened space in his boxers, untouched and not-going-to-be-touched on account of Derek’s quick exit. Stiles really couldn’t even believe it.

“Okay—yeah, I’ll just—you know, wash down the taste of your cum with these burgers…” Stiles called out through the heavy metal of the loft’s doors, undeniably angered by Derek’s detached aloofness. “—_dickwad_.”

⦿

An orgasm was the cure for a cloudy mind—at least, that’s how Derek understood it. And shooting his load down Stiles’ willing throat made way for a moment of clarity. The excuse of needing to get down to the mall was exactly that—an excuse and a moment of clarity. In fact, the excuse poured out of Derek’s mouth before he even had the chance to genuinely think about it. It was almost as if the subconscious part of his mind was intentionally steering him in the direction that he needed to head—out of Stiles’ arms and into the changing room of a men’s underwear clothing department.

Derek made his way into one of the many department stores within the mall, settling on the one that he knew provided an ample selection of underwear—boxers, briefs, boxer-briefs, thongs, and jockstraps—absolutely everything and anything. As Derek walked through the wide aisles of the multi-level store, he felt the palms of his hands grow sweaty and itchy. A deep pit feeling of nervousness found itself coating the inners of his body. Derek found himself looking around and analyzing fellow shoppers and employees, remaining as inconspicuous as he could manage. He didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention.

But the store was practically empty anyways. It was midday and the large majority of Beacon Hills was either at work or at school. Derek really didn’t have anything that he needed to worry about. And yet, Derek couldn’t shake his nerves. He quickly understood it, though. It wasn’t just nervousness. It was excitement and anticipation registering itself as nervousness inside of his body, which was no longer just his own. Even as he made his way up the escalator, Liam’s commands echoed throughout his head—softly, almost comfortingly, nudging Derek towards turning himself into the always ready slut that he needed to be.

Eventually, Derek arrived at the large section of menswear. It was located in the top corner of the department store’s second floor. He casually strolled into the aisles and walked through them, carefully looking at the shelves and shelves of tank-tops and socks that surrounded him. And then finally, his eyes tracked onto the selection of what he was actually looking for. And luckily for him, there was barely anybody else around his immediate vicinity, so he didn’t have to worry about people giving him strange looks.

Not that they would.

The first thing that caught Derek’s attention were the same brand and design of boxer-briefs that currently made up the entirety of his available selection at home—all black, all Stiles’ personal favorite. Derek ran his fingers along the flimsy plastic of the packages, instinctively pulling one of the packages off of the shelf. At first, Derek’s mind snapped back to normalcy, operating as if he were just making a casual trip to the store to get some more of the boxers that he already normally bought.

But then Derek froze in place. His mind stuttered. And at once, his eyes seemed to glaze over with a nonchalant gleam of apathy. Derek’s fingers twitched and extended, causing him to drop the package of boxer-briefs onto the floor. Mindlessly, Derek stepped over the discarded package and walked over to where he could see jockstraps and thongs upon the shelves. It was like he was entranced. Surely, from the outside-looking-in, Derek looked like some kind of brainless robot. But he wasn’t brainless. He had a brain. It was just—rewired.

Derek grew increasingly fidgety by the passing second while he browsed through the different available colors of jockstraps and thongs. He thumbed at the various underwear packages, looking at the underwear models that were positioned on the front of the flimsy plastic casings. Derek tried to envision himself in their places, whipping up all kinds of lewd visions of what his own fat ass would look like bare and accessible, only framed by thin straps of elastic. He had never even worn one before, nor had he fantasized about doing so, at least—not until his meeting with Liam in the woods.

And now, it was all Derek could think about in the moment—eyes glossy and eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. Derek was slightly overwhelmed. There were all kinds of colors: navy, grey, red, white, forest green, and black. The same was said for the available selection of thongs. But Derek wasn’t entirely sure which ones Liam would want him to ultimately choose. And as Derek tried to deliberate inside of his head, the growing thickness in the crotch of his pants kept pulling away his limited focus.

Derek’s cock strained hard against the denim of his jeans, undoubtedly still sticky with Stiles’ expired saliva from the blowjob at the loft. As Derek kept looking through the shelves, he palmed down to where he was hard, not even bothering much to care about how obvious his bulge was to the open space of the tired department store aisles. He figured that nobody would notice, nobody would care. But then a voice from the other side of the shelves shook Derek’s attention.

“Need some help with that?” A man asked, charmingly and flirtatious.

The seemingly helpful stranger stood tall and strong, just around the same height as Derek. He was standing directly across from where Derek was standing—right over the dividing line of the underwear-stocked shelves. The stranger’s own blue eyes beamed into the glassy windows of Derek’s. The man looked impolite and rough. He was blond and muscular, with an overbeaten leather jacket stretched on his torso and a scratchy beard fraying up his jaw-line.

In many ways, Derek found his own likeness reflected back from the stranger that stood across from him. The only difference was that the stranger looked completely secure and brutally independent, free from cares of the world. He looked dominating and immovable. And for some reason, that seemed somewhat foreign. No matter how hard Derek racked his brain for memories of being rough and tough and dominant and sturdy, he found it difficult to find solid memories. They simply didn’t exist—not as clear as they had been, not anymore.

“Help with what?” Derek responded, palming down harder at his hard cock. But it became obvious that the stranger wasn’t even able to peer over the shelves to see Derek’s bulge.

“Uh—to make a selection?” The stranger droned, seemingly unimpressed with Derek’s airheaded question. “It’s obvious you’re having a hard time with it….so maybe just—try them on.”

Derek nodded, picking up the package for a red jockstrap. “Oh.” He muttered, scratching at the side of his face.

“Although, honestly—” The stranger piped up, raising his stature to peer over the shelves. He took in an eyeful of what he could see of Derek’s body—the incredibly muscles, the shoulders, the torso, the waistline, and the thighs. “—you’d look hot as hell in every color.”

Derek grew slightly red in the face. He cleared his throat, recollecting his composure, and then grabbed every packaged variant of jockstrap and thong that the department store aisle had to offer. With one last look of the cocky smirk that anchored itself on the face of the helpful stranger, Derek cradled the pile of packages in both of his arms, and then made his way towards the fitting rooms.

His pace was flighty—like he could barely contain the eagerness that boiled around inside of his body. All the while, Derek’s fat cock bounced around with its massive hardness in the crotch of his pants, twitching and aching to get into the grasp of his hand. And as Derek closed himself into one of the dressing room stalls, the first order of business was to get his cock out into the open before he creamed his jeans and was forced to awkwardly make his way back to his car with cum dripping down his legs.

Derek shucked down his pants and kicked them aside. He stood there for a moment and stared into the surrounding mirrored walls of the tiny dressing room. Derek took in the sight of his body, especially where his cock jut out hard and desperate. And then, Derek opened up his arms and let the vast assortment of packages that he was carrying crash down onto the linoleum of the dressing room. At once, Derek removed the rest of his clothes—his jacket, shirt, and socks—so that he was completely naked and exposed under the harsh fluorescent lighting.

Trying on underwear wasn’t allowed, but Derek didn’t care. He was going to buy everything that he brought into the fitting room with him anyways. Plus, he couldn’t wait until getting back to the loft. He needed to see what he looked like with something other than boxer-briefs wrapped around his bottom half. Better yet, Derek needed to see what his fat ass looked like framed by a jockstrap. He needed to see what a thong would look like swallowed up the crease of his spreadable cheeks.

As Derek looked down to the scattered packages at his feet, he couldn’t help but find himself immediately drawn to the set of black jockstraps. He picked it up and held the package in his hands, not for more than a few seconds before he ripped off the plastic top and then pulled the minimalistic fabric out into his own hands. He stood there for a moment, slightly confused, but only because he had expected a moment of deliberation or hesitation to grip at his body. But it never happened.

Derek slipped on the jockstrap and instantly felt his knees buckle as his body twinged with pleasure. He nearly crashed down to ground but maintained his stance, staring around in the walls of mirrors that surrounded every bit of the tiny room. He found himself lost in the sight of his own body, even more than he had back at the loft with the body-length mirror in Stiles’ study. This time, it was different.

He looked—unrecognizable. Yes, his body looked the same. His broad chest was wide with power, tits on full display and ready to be squeezed together to create a fuckable cock-sleeve for a fat cock. The ridges of his abs looked even more detailed than they normally did, highlighted with shadows from the lights that hung overhead. His waist remained all toned, all muscle, all abs—sturdy and the envy of men throughout the city of Beacon Hills, definitely. And yet, Derek looked unrecognizable.

Derek’s cock refused to fit inside the front pouch of the jockstrap. He repeatedly tried to stuff his hardness into the available fabric, but again-and-again watched as his dick speared out—stretching and nearly tearing the front of the jock with an incredible, uncontainable force. It just added to the element of unrecognizable energy that Derek felt radiating off of himself.

As he stood there, massive cock jutting out from around the fabric of the jockstrap’s front, leaking a slew of heavy honey-like drips of his own pre-cum, Derek couldn’t help but think how this was new to him. Never—actually _never_—would Derek have ever even thought to consider wearing something so inadequate to serving the needs of his own body. He wouldn’t have ever wanted to wear something that exposed so much of himself. And yet, there he was—practically naked, with a jockstrap unable to hold back the girth of his own dick.

Derek hummed soothingly, turning around so that he could look back over his shoulder to get an eyeful of what his backside looked like. Derek felt raw heat slash across the bridge of his sharp nose and cheeks. He had seen himself before—in the mirror, right after showers. Even a few hours prior to when Stiles interrupted him in the loft. But this was different. Derek had never seen himself in a jockstrap before and it felt—slutty. He felt slutty.

Derek bent over, placing his arms against the wall in front of him to brace his own weight, and then stared back at himself some more. There was a slight lift to Derek’s already perfect ass, all thanks to the elastic straps that framed his backside. But still, the jockstrap made his ass look even bigger, even juicier, and even more fuckable. Derek couldn’t help but think that _this_ was the visual Liam would see as he took his place behind him and railed into him—bent over like a cheap slut and perfect for maneuvering.

It was all new to Derek, but it felt better than anything he had ever felt before. And there was no doubt in Derek’s mind that it would feel even better with Liam’s quick hips striking into him from behind. He was certain of it and the thought alone made his body react. Derek felt his spine tingle and his virgin hole twitch in anticipation. He looked back at himself in the mirror and momentarily thought about Stiles—only to immediately have those thoughts pale and dissolve away, only to be replaced by thoughts of Liam.

Derek didn’t want Stiles to see him all splayed out and bent over. He didn’t think Stiles even deserved to see that. All through their relationship, Stiles had taken that positioning. Time-after-time. And Derek—Derek was dying inside from trying to play a part that he wasn’t built to play. All thanks to Liam’s mind control and suggestions—that’s how Derek felt. That’s how Derek remembered his times with Stiles. No longer did he remember enjoying the times as a top. The attempt to recall those memories rendered no results inside of Derek’s new mind.

With one of his hands, Derek reached behind himself and slapped onto the globe of his ass—drinking in the sound and the stinging pleasure. Derek watched it bounce with the self-served strike. He palmed over the quickly-faded redness, squeezing at the meat, letting himself further explore his own body in a way that he barely ever even thought to do. He raked his eyes over his own body—over the triskelion tattoo that was centered on his upper back, over the toned muscle of his legs and thighs, and to where the thickness of his ass thumped and bounced every time that he touched himself there.

“_Fuck—_” Derek muttered heavily under his breath with a quiet rasp to his voice.

Derek kept touching himself, slapping at the meat of his own ass. He couldn’t stop himself. He was mesmerized by how outlandishly lewd it looked as reflected in the gleam of the mirrors. Derek gripped hard into either cheek of his ass with the palms of his hands, rubbing at the skin at first, and then decided to spread his cheeks apart—just a little bit, just enough to catch a glimpse of his tight virgin hole, completely unaware of how much his body was getting amped up with all of the exploration, teasing, and touching.

Suddenly, there was a demanding knock on the shoddy fitting room door. A bored and monotonous voice called out through the open air. “Uh—excuse me, sir—it’s against policy to let anybody try on anything from this particular department.”

“That—that’s not a problem.” Derek confirmed, swallowing hard—nearly growling out in impatient anger.

Derek was sent toppling back to his reality. He stared forward into the mirror that was haphazardly bolted onto the back of the fitting room’s door. For the second time of the day, Derek could see the frustration from being interrupted in the midst of exploring his own ass steam fiercely inside of his green eyes. But instead of fighting back or continuing with what he was doing, Derek quickly shuffled his way back into his clothes. The last thing that he wanted was for the department store employee to bust down the door and escort him back to the parking lot.

Derek put his shirt back on and then went to take off the jockstrap that he was technically ‘trying on’. But as his fingers slipped underneath the jock’s waistband, Derek stopped. His initial thoughts were immediately overridden by his brain, pushing him around any mental roadblock that he had about shoplifting. A smirk settled on Derek’s bright face and then he stepped back into his discarded jeans.

He pulled his jeans up both of his legs, but did it as slowly as he could. Derek watched the plumpness of his ass—still framed tightly by the black elastic—as it _squeezed_ into the tightness of his jeans. He tracked the jiggle of his own backside as the denim rode up and eventually covered and slightly compressed his natural thickness. And then Derek’s attention turned to his front-side, where he was still achingly hard—fat cock spilling out from the jockstrap’s pouch.

Derek used both of his hands to stuff his cock down into the crotch of his jeans and then finally zipped himself up, tidying up the rest of the outfit he was wearing. Deep inside, Derek’s balls ached for another orgasm. The friction of the head of his leaking cock rubbing against the coarseness of his jeans pushed Derek closer and closer to the edge, but Derek held on the best that he could—quickly picking up the rest of the underwear packages that he had dropped to the floor. He just needed to buy everything and get back home and then he’d be safe.

Hurriedly, Derek maneuvered his way out of the tiny fitting room stall and through the floor of the department store. When he got to the register for checkout, the edgy stranger from jockstrap browsing was chatting up the cashier—paying for what he was buying. Derek shuffled around uncomfortably and impatiently, gently hopping from side-to-side, swaying, and trying his best intimidate his own throbbing erection back down to flaccidity.

No luck.

But eventually, the edgy stranger picked up what he bought and left the counter—flashing a smirk over to where Derek was standing with what was going to make up the entire top drawer of his dresser. Derek didn’t return the smirk; he just shuffled forward and accidentally nudged his bulge into the front of the cashier counter—nearly groaning out right then and there. He dropped all of the packages onto the counter surface and then looked to the employee, who looked just as bored and monotonous as the voice that rang out in the fitting room.

“Are you some kind of underwear fetishist, or something?” The employee snarked.

“No—no, they’re—for my—boyfriend.”

And then, Derek’s train of thought momentarily derailed. He questioned himself and questioned whether or not he had even been referencing Stiles when he told the cashier clerk that he was buying all of the jockstraps and thongs for his boyfriend.

_Boyfriend_—the world swirled around inside of Derek’s head. After all, Stiles was technically his actual boyfriend, but he was also at school and completely oblivious to what was going on. Stiles was completely unaware to Derek’s spontaneous purchases and unaware that Derek was even considering replacing his boxer-briefs with anything and everything that Liam wished him to replace.

“My boyfriend—” Derek added. “—Liam.”

Hanging off the last syllable of Liam’s name, Derek’s body immediately sputtered and tightened, flushing hot with heat. He felt his balls squeeze and his cock jump in his pants, only to feel repeated spurts of sticky heat blast into the crotch of his jeans. Spurt after spurt, Derek just stood there, trying his best to look presentable and calm. All the while, Derek’s body was electric and he couldn’t help the stunted, involuntarily thrusts of his own hips. All flushed in the face, beaded with sweat, Derek stared aimlessly into the seemingly unknowing expression of the employee behind the counter.

As the cashier rang up the sizable amount of Derek’s packages, completely oblivious to what was happening; Derek couldn’t tear his thoughts away from his own sizable package. He couldn’t tear away from the waves of pleasure that racked his body. It felt good—unbelievably good. And with every pump of his throbbing cock, Liam’s name breezed through Derek’s head. Liam—Liam—_Liam_—his boyfriend? It made Derek want to whimper and groan, but he kept what little composure he had, desperately trying to keep himself from letting on that he creamed his fucking jeans.

Luckily for him, nobody else was around and the cashier was way too focused on the draining quality of his job. So Derek just rode his orgasm out, toes curling inside of his boots. His legs tingled, his muscles tensed, he dug his fingers into the edge of the cashier’s countertop as he continued to brace himself—holding back all of the filthy sounds that he knew were screaming to let loose out of his mouth. And eventually, his cumshot lessened the load, resulting in the finishing feeble spurts of cum.

He didn’t feel guilty.

Derek nodded to himself in confidence, smiling once everything was rung-up and bagged. He paid and then left the cashier counter without as much as a friendly nod ‘good-bye’. Even with a cooling load dripping down his clothed thighs, there was a pep in Derek’s stride as he made his way through the department store. There was a possibility that people were staring, but Derek just kept walking until he stepped out into the parking lot and got to the comfort of his own car.

⦿

That night, Derek and Stiles were alone together in the loft. Derek was re-shelving many of the books that he had previously removed from the study for his own personal reading. He made sure that they were all put back into alphabetical order, despite the fact that the rest of the study was nowhere near as organized, all thanks to Stiles’ messiness. But organizing was somewhat second nature and instinctual for Derek, at least—for the time being. The pre-installed notion to be responsible was slowly draining away from his consciousness with every action.

Derek retired to the living room where Stiles was sitting in the middle of the room, on the hard concrete floor. His gangly legs were crossed and his arms were hovering above a splayed-open book. Stiles was doing a shit ton of odd-sounding humming with lots of finger-waggling, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary. It was simple spell-work studying and Stiles tried to practice as much as he could throughout the weekdays. In fact, the last time that Stiles had gotten a shot to study was with the now-missing book with the mind control technique listed within its pages.

“Shouldn’t you be doing actual homework?” Derek asked, coming up to standing behind where Stiles was sitting on the ground.

Stiles groaned, breaking out of his concentration. He rubbed at his eyes and then looked over his shoulder, up to where Derek was towering above him. He grimaced, popping up to stand on his own two feet, and then crossed his arms. Stiles stared at Derek pensively for a moment, much to Derek’s confusion. He made it clear that he was disgruntled about something, but it only made him that much more annoyed that Derek seemed completely confused as to why.

“Are you ready to talk?” Stiles questioned sternly.

“About—?” Derek responded, raising an eyebrow at Stiles’ attitude.

“Uh—today, at lunch. I blew you and you just—like, ran off.”

It clicked. Derek’s eyelashes fluttered for a second, almost like his brain was re-calibrating how to deal with the situation. His mind flashed back to the incident at the mall when he nearly fingered himself inside of a fitting room and then creamed his jeans at the checkout counter. There was no way that he was going to admit that to Stiles. He’d freak. Derek’s normal range of comedy didn’t even stretch far enough for it to be taken as a bad joke.

“I told you already.” Derek confirmed. “I had to run to the mall.”

Stiles scoffed. “For what?”

“Dry-cleaning.” The lie came quickly and easily. Derek didn’t even hesitate.

“Really?” Stiles hung on the question, still debating as to whether or not to take the excuse. But Derek didn’t have any reason to lie. He never lied. Why would he?

Derek searched Stiles’ eyes for any discontent, but found little to none. It appeared that his lie actually worked. Really? A sudden spark warmed inside of Derek’s body. Was Stiles really this easy to get one over on? Possibly. After all, Stiles had no reason to doubt him and the things that he did while the rest of the pack were supposed to be at school. Hell—Derek didn’t even know if the Beacon Hills shopping mall had a dry-cleaners, but Stiles seemed reluctant to continue on the questioning.

Derek won.

“I spilled shit all over one of my jackets and forgot to pick it up.” Derek said.

Stiles settled down. “Oh, and you spilling cum all down my throat jogged your memory?” He chuckled.

Derek grinned and nodded, pulling Stiles in for a kiss. Stiles let his eyelashes flutter shut, but Derek’s didn’t do the same. They kissed, but putting forth their passion. But Derek felt disconnected from it. He played through the motions, sure. And luckily, Stiles didn’t notice anything wrong. And when they both pulled away and looked back at one another, Derek’s comforting and loving gaze was there to placate Stiles even further.

“So—now that you got your dry cleaning, you up for a couple rounds?” Stiles snickered, wrapping his arms around Derek’s waist—landing kissing on Derek’s neck.

Immediately, Derek’s heartbeat picked up in pace. Not because he was in agreement with Stiles’ preposition, but because he wasn’t. Derek leaned into the kissing and allowed it to happen, but then Stiles’ hands started to wander south, right down to the buckle of Derek’s belt. It was like a switch flipped inside of Derek—all of the frustration from being interrupted in the afternoon and the frustration that Liam hadn’t been the one to visit the loft during his lunch break flooded back into Derek’s head and turned him away from playing up the role of being interested in his human boyfriend.

Stiles fiddled around with Derek’s belt; meanwhile Derek tried to figure out how to weasel his way out of the situation. His pants were fresh because he had changed out of the cummed-up pair upon arriving back home from his shopping trip. He also laundered the jockstrap that he had stolen from the mall as well, having switched into a second black pair after a much needed shower. And that was part of the problem.

Derek wore boxer-briefs. Those were what he normally wore. Those were what Stiles favored to see and what he was most familiar with seeing. Jockstraps, on the other hand, were never something that Derek even considered, not until that highlighted moment in the woods with Liam. So Derek figured that if Stiles pulled down his pants to see a jockstrap, he’d be less than accepting. He wouldn’t be happy or interested. Stiles wasn’t like that, Derek was certain. Derek knew that Stiles didn’t want him to be any different than how he was. Stiles would just get suspicious and ask questions and crash down waves of shame.

The very idea of it all pushed at Derek’s buttons, making him antsy and desperate to find somebody that would praise him and reward him and make him feel like the slut he felt like inside. It pushed Derek towards needing to find Liam—rather than carry on the charade with Stiles into the later hours of the evening. Suddenly, the only thing that Derek could legitimately and cognitively think about was Liam, Liam, Liam—pushing aside a majority of Derek’s functions and processes. Not that he really needed to think too much, anyways.

“Actually—I’m supposed to meet with Liam for some extra training.” Derek muttered, bulking up his chest and casually knocking Stiles away from his frame, creating distance.

“Are you serious?” Stiles scoffed. “What the hell does he need extra training for? And right now—?”

Derek buckled his belt back up. “He’s the new werewolf in this pack, Stiles. He needs all the training he can get. And he doesn’t get enough of it during group practice. This way, I can—I can devote more attention to what he needs.”

“Dude, Liam can wait.”

“No, this is important.” Derek chided. “I’m the alpha. I need to put my responsibilities first, Stiles.”

Derek walked out of the loft without entertaining any further discussion with Stiles. The human seemed to take the hint and just retreat from arguing, as it wouldn’t have worked anyways. Derek technically had the leg up on the situation, citing his alpha duties and responsibilities. In reality, the majority of his priorities and alpha responsibilities, the ones that he originally valued so much, had become increasingly diminished throughout the passing hours, and replaced with new values and desires—ones that he would be able to explore with Liam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I appreciate any feedback or critiques that you guys have to give. Or if you just wanna fangirl out with me cause the cheating!derek kink tag doesn't get enough love! I'll try to respond to as many comments as I can, if not all of them!
> 
> Stay-tuned for the 3rd chapter in a few weeks!


	3. Homework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek sneaks into Liam's bedroom, desperately seeking something that he knows Liam will be able to provide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a day late, but there were some last minute changes/additions/and proofreading issues. However, this chapter was originally going to be 10-11,000 words and it's now 16,000+ words. So, hopefully that makes up for you guys having to wait an extra day for this chapter to get published. 
> 
> At the current moment, I don't know when the next chapter will be released considering the fact that I have not yet started writing it. I do, however, have a general idea that I know I'm going to take the story and it's going to be super hot. I promise! 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Eventually, Derek found himself in Liam’s neighborhood. The suburban streets were dark and barely lit thanks to the sparseness of streetlamps. Derek parked his car a few blocks away from where he knew Liam’s house to be, only because he wasn’t sure if Liam’s father was home. If he was, Derek didn’t want to run the risk of his sports-car’s engine pulling in any unwanted attention. The last thing that Derek needed was to get the police called on him for camping out and lurking around one particular house.

Derek walked the few blocks to Liam’s and then stopped for a minute, deliberating as to what he wanted to do. How was he to advance? Suddenly, old memories crashed into Derek’s otherwise dazed thoughts. He thought back to his relationship with Stiles, back to the earlier days, and back to when they didn’t like each other, then started dating, and then elected to keep it hidden. Derek thought back to all of the times that he would sneak into Stiles’ room in the middle of the night through the window—being careful not to alert Stiles’ sheriff father.

And then just as quickly as the memories appeared, something changed. The emotions behind those memories seemed to rewrite themselves. There was fondness there. There were feelings of enjoyment and happiness, all mixed together with the thrill of being bad and sneaking around underneath the nose of authority. But the connection between those feelings and those instances with Stiles broke and faded, only to be replaced by the presence of Derek’s reality—sneaking _away _from Stiles and trying to sneak up into Liam’s bedroom.

Derek could recall those memories with Stiles, but the feelings that used to be associated with them didn’t exist anymore. Instead, when Derek thought about them, he thought about Liam and what he wanted to do with Liam. He thought about tripping up his own boyfriend back at the loft with excuses, only to drive across the city to meet up with a newbie beta werewolf. And for what? To talk? To kill time before having to return back to the loft? Derek’s mind was still somewhat unsure, but as Derek stood there on the sidewalk, caught in the cold night air, completely hard in his tight jeans—it was clear that Derek’s body knew exactly why he made the journey.

Much to Derek’s displeasure, Liam’s father’s car was in the driveway. Liam wasn’t home alone, but that didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of what Derek was trying to achieve. And since Derek was fairly good when it came to lurking and keeping quiet, he crept around to the back of the house and leapt up—coming down to land on the roofing that stretched beneath a few of the upstairs windows. Luckily, there was one window in particular that had a dim light shining through and also happened to be where Liam’s scent radiated from the strongest.

Derek peered through the window and immediately perked up when he saw that Liam was alone in the comfort of his own bedroom. Across the room, Liam was sitting at his desk and facing away from the window, bobbing his head around to the sound of rock music. Liam was wearing headphones, which clearly diminished the strength and talent of his own beta werewolf hearing, because it didn’t immediately pick up on the sound of somebody kneeling on the roof outside of his window.

However, the moment that Derek unlatched the window and slid it open, Liam’s attention was interrupted and refocused. Liam spun around in his chair—catching the sight of Derek’s hulking form as he ducked in through the tight fit of the window and nearly toppled down to the carpeted ground of the bedroom. Liam snickered to himself, removing his headphones. He stretched out his limbs—rolling his shoulders and curling his toes, before crossing his arms to watch as Derek settled into the room and took an awkward stance.

“I—uh—I was just—I wanted to come over.” Derek started shakily, slightly muttering from underneath his own breath as he shut the window behind himself. There was an air of uncertainty latched onto his words as they flooded into the space around him, as well as a blush of embarrassment that reddened his skin.

Liam took note of Derek’s fidgety nature. The alpha of Beacon Hills, who almost always seemed so calm, cool, and collected—pieced together, strong, and certain—looked all frazzled and eager. It was clear that his brain chemistry had changed significantly since their meeting the night before in the woods. But it made Liam happy to know that Derek was actively seeking him out. Derek was there, standing in Liam’s bedroom, because he wanted to be there—and because he was clearly looking for something.

It was impossible for Liam not to smirk because he knew exactly what Derek was seeking out by driving across the city to his house. And if the embarrassed blush on Derek’s face didn’t make the reasoning obvious, then the unmistakable smell of intrigue and arousal that steamed off of Derek’s body certainly did the job. The more that Liam analyzed Derek, the more it became clear that the jittery and desperate appearance looked more like pent-up lust, unable to find its way to the surface. Instead, it just boiled over.

“Hey, I thought you’d probably be at home or something—doing alpha duties—or messing around with Stiles.” Liam said casually, mentally tugging Derek’s attention into a more malleable state.

Derek felt something catch in his throat. He gulped and tried to swallow down his inability to find words, but it didn’t really help. It was less about not having anything to say and more about being too fuzzy in the head to string together a coherent sentence of response. Instead, all Derek could do was rake his eyes across Liam’s lounged body and think about how in all of the times that Derek snuck into Stiles’ bedroom—Stiles never looked so hot.

Liam was still sitting in his desk chair, facing where Derek remained across the room by the window. He had his headphones settled around the back of his neck and Derek could still hear the static of rock music playing through them. Liam was swearing a simple black tank-top that stuck nicely to his lean muscle and a pair of comfortable grey sweatpants that caught snug around the beta’s crotch where his flaccid, yet insanely huge and noticeable bulge demanded Derek’s attention. 

Derek finally cleared his throat and walked across the room, closing up the distance between himself and where Liam remained in his chair. “Stiles—wanted to mess around. I didn’t. Not—with him. I don’t—think…”

“Nah, you didn’t.” Liam asserted, pushing the thought into Derek’s readied head. “I heard Stiles was pretty pissed at you about something. He was talking about it earlier when he came back at the end of lunch period.” Liam sized up the alpha before him—noting how Derek could barely keep from beaming down to where Liam’s sweatpants bulge was.

“Yeah—he was.”

Liam scoffed. He trailed one of his hands down to his crotch. He didn’t squeeze or rub; he just cupped himself suggestively—as if offering something. Liam watched a gleam of eagerness twinkle in Derek’s green eyes. “You should tell me some more about what happened.”

“I was trying to find the dumb book that he lost.” Derek started, visually frustrated at the recollected memory. “I—got distracted and—and—”

“Don’t stop.”

“—I was going to jerk off, but he interrupted me.” Derek scratched at the back of his head. “He brought me lunch. I guess he was trying to be nice. He ended up blowing me when he saw I was hard.”

“He _interrupted_ you.” Liam emphasized. “He probably didn’t even bother to call you up first to ask if he could drop by. And then he stopped you from making yourself feel good—so that he could make _himself _feel good. He used you.”

Derek’s jaw clenched. A grim pensiveness thinned Derek’s lips and he brought his eyes up to gaze into Liam’s. A feeling of resentment tightened inside of Derek’s chest—the same kind of resentment that he had felt earlier in the day when Stiles had decided to interrupt him at the loft. And now, harping on Liam’s use of the words “he used you”, Derek felt even more frustrated.

“He keeps trying to….control me.” Derek announced, eyebrows furrowed.

The thoughts came to Derek as if they were his own, but unbeknownst to him, the thoughts had been pushed into his pretty little head by Liam. Derek was doomed to remain none the wiser on account of the fact that he’d never break out of his perfectly crafted new mindset. Derek would never question it. Meanwhile, Liam just watched the new gears and bolts work inside of Derek’s head, pleased with himself at what he was able to accomplish thus far with Stiles’ own book.

“So, why did you come here?” Liam asked, already fully aware of why Derek did what he did. After all, it was Liam who pushed the new commands into Derek’s brain—back in the woods whilst trading handjobs with the alpha. But Liam wanted to hear Derek say it in his own words. He wanted Derek to confirm that he was acting on his own accord, now and forever.

“For you.” Derek eyebrows immediately creased and then he started to rub at the bridge of his nose, almost as if he couldn’t figure out a reason as to why he said what he did. But the moment he tried to analyze his thoughts—thinking to find an error in his speech—Derek found nothing wrong. “I came here for you—and for me—for you—to fuck me.”

“What about Stiles?”

“He thinks that I came over here to help you with some extra training.” Derek explained, exuding an aura of smug confidence. “I lied to him and he believed me. He believes me. Stiles is loyal and smart, but he trusts me. He—he wouldn’t think that I’d lie to him about something like this.”

Liam could barely hide his smirk. “Something like what?”

“Sneaking away from him—” Derek confirmed. “—to cheat on _him_.”

Almost instantaneously, Derek’s body snapped into action. His own hands wandered down to where he was already hard in his pants. He could feel his fat cock thickening up and spilling out from the jockstrap that he was wearing underneath his jeans. The fabric couldn’t contain him, but he didn’t care. Still rattling around inside of his head was Liam’s suggestions about wearing jockstraps. And it made Derek feel hot in all kinds of ways that he could barely explain with words.

“I—uh—went to the mall earlier, too. That’s where I went after Stiles blew me.” Derek started, thumbing at the button of his jeans. “I bought some jockstraps—”

“—and you’re wearing one right now? Holy shit, Derek.” Liam felt a surge of arousal throb down to his own cock. “And you’re going to lie to your boyfriend about wearing jockstraps now too, huh? You really are a fucking slut.”

Derek drank in the word “slut”. It fluttered around inside of his stomach and made his skin prickle with heat. He liked hearing it, especially when it was directed at him. He thought back to the changing room at the department store and back to what he looked like in that jockstrap. Even better, he thought back to how he accidentally blew a load in his pants while buying the new undergarments and had to drive all the way back to his loft with evidence of his own sluttiness cooling in the crotch of his jeans.

“Show me.” Liam urged, fluttering his hand with a “come on, do it” motion. But when Derek immediately went to finish unbuttoning his pants and to tug them down, Liam stopped him. “You should strip off everything that you’re wearing—except the jock. Do it slowly, Derek. It’ll feel good. You know it will. You’ll feel yourself getting more and more turned on with everything you take off.”

_Liam was right_. And Derek’s mind corrected itself accordingly. Derek started first by removing his leather boots, slowly nudging them off with the heels of his feet, kicking them to the side once he was able to do so. He followed by removing his socks, nearly groaning out as he bent down and felt his hardened cock squeeze with his movement. Derek then removed his jacket and hooked his fingers underneath the hem of his shirt, dragging it slowly up the expanse of his naked torso. By the time he finally got around to taking off his pants, Derek was squeezing together his legs—clearly uncomfortable as he tried to force back the feeling of an orgasm brewing deep in his balls.

Liam watched from where he sat as Derek revealed more and more of himself. None of which was anything that Liam hadn’t gotten to see yet, but there was an underlying feeling of thrill that accompanied watching Derek strip himself down to complete nakedness. And with every hunk of bare muscle that opened out to Liam’s visibility, Liam throbbed harder in his own sweatpants—feeling dribbles of hot pre-cum leak from the slit of his cock.

When Derek finally stripped off everything except for his jockstrap, Liam practically purred with satisfaction and approval. Derek looked like he was just _begging_ to be bent over and fucked like the fat-bottomed slut he was destined to be. The alpha’s tanned muscles seemed to glow in the otherwise dim lighting of the bedroom and the stark darkness of the actual jockstrap contrasted beautifully with Derek’s skin. All the while, Liam could barely pry his eyes away from the near inability of Derek’s massive package to stay contained within the fabric of the jock’s front.

Derek remained where he was standing, surrounded by the discarded pieces of the clothes that he was wearing. There was a piece of him that felt as though he should cover himself up. He was lewd, completely naked. His cock was hard and barely contained within the front of his jock, leaking through the material and down to the carpet. Never, ever had he been naked in front of a beta of his. But just as quickly as Derek’s arms moved to instinctively cover up his own obscenity, his eyes drew half-lidded and his brain felt a rush of heat push through—forcing his hands away from covering himself up.

That was—something he would have done. In Derek’s head, those thoughts belonged to an older version of himself. But that wasn’t him. Not anymore. Derek looked down at where his cock was jut out for just a moment, only to be overcome with proud feelings. He wasn’t embarrassed by it. It was obscene, but that _wasn’t_ bad. Derek tried to search his mind and tried to listen for his conscience, but couldn’t find anything to dissuade his newfound feelings of elation.

“Dude, are you already about to cum?” Liam scoffed with a stifled laugh.

“I can’t help it. I just feel—pent up. All the time now. Like I could cum buckets at the drop of a dime.” Derek admitted, puffing up his chest with a proud gleam in his eye at his own admission.

Derek’s lips quivered with lost words of which he wanted to say, but his brains were all scrambled. The only thing that he could think about was how much he wanted to please Liam. He stepped closer to where Liam was still sitting down in the desk chair, trying his best to keep his eyes locked onto the brightness of Liam’s eyes. But Derek found that impossible, because he kept looking down to where the monstrous girth of Liam’s bulge obscenely stretched the soft fabric of the sweatpants that the beta was wearing. And what was worse was that Derek could practically smell Liam’s heat, he could almost taste the arousal from the air.

“Come on, Derek—” Liam cooed. He splayed his hands down the meat of his own thighs and enticingly slapped down on them, watching Derek’s cheeks blush. “Come sit that fat ass down.”

Derek stepped up to where Liam was down in the chair. For a moment, Derek took a moment to size up the situation—taking note at the way in which he towered above the seated beta. But then at once, slowly and sensually, Derek hiked up his legs—one, and then two—hooking them over the fronts of Liam’s thighs. He straddled Liam so that the two could face one another. Derek took it slow, unable to stop his breathing from hitching as overstimulation wracked his body. And when Liam demanded it, Derek eased himself down until his fat ass pressed down against the heat of Liam’s clothed cock.

Despite the two werewolves being completely seated, there was still somewhat of a height difference, although not by much. It didn’t bother Liam. In fact, it turned him on even more to know that he was smaller than Derek, but soon he’d be the one folding Derek in half. Liam was absolutely outside himself with excitement and arousal, so much so that his brain couldn’t figure out what to look at or touch first. He just wanted to take a moment to drink everything in. But seeing as how the slight height difference placed Liam’s line of sight and face directly into the beef of Derek’s chest—that was what Liam took advantage of first.

Without warning, Liam leaned forward and took one of Derek’s nipples into the warmth of his mouth. Gently, he nibbled gently at the hardness with the bluntness of his teeth, pulling stifled groans out of Derek’s throat. As he swapped between both of Derek’s nipples, Liam’s free hands wandered to Derek’s backside—starting first at the alpha’s muscular back, only to slide down until his fingers ran across the elastic waistband of the jockstrap that Derek was wearing. It immediately sent shockwaves down to Liam’s cock, which were certainly felt by where Derek’s bare ass rested upon it.

“P—please.” Derek grunted, rolling his head back.

Liam snickered, pulling away from sucking and nibbling at Derek’s tits. “Oh—so you want more? Want me to play with your ass, Derek? Tell me—say it, beg for it like the slut you are, babe.”

“Please—grab my ass. _Please_.” Derek grumbled, but it was more than enough to persuade Liam…as if he would throw away the opportunity.

Liam’s fingers gripped onto the waistband of the jockstrap. He pulled the elastic taut and then let it snap back to strike against Derek’s skin. The sound rang out through the quietness of the room. Derek nearly cried out, but Liam took the alpha’s lips in for a commanding kiss before any sound could leak out into the air. And instead of making too much noise, Liam just swallowed down all of Derek’s groans and moans and whimpers whilst they continued to kiss, swirling around their tongues and letting their teeth occasionally knock against one another’s—signifying the eager intensity.

The kiss knocked Derek’s mind off kilter. His thoughts momentarily flickered around with times that he kissed Stiles, how their lips felt crushed together, Stiles’ taste, and the sound of Stiles’ groans. There was a fluttering in Derek’s heart as he thought—a brief, flittering piece of sentimentality that tugged at his body—but then Derek felt his body sneer and let the memories fade, far away to where not even Derek could chase them. And then suddenly, the feeling of wanting to chase them vanished—no remorse. No more thinking. Derek’s mind forced itself back to reality—his new reality of kissing Liam and feeling his lips on his own, tasting each other, and melting into one another’s touch.

Whilst the two continued to kiss and bite passionately at each other’s lips, Liam’s hands wandered even lower down Derek’s backside until he could spread both palms of his hands across the bounce of Derek’s ass. Unsurprisingly, no matter how hard the beta tried, Liam couldn’t grip everything. Derek’s ass was just that fucking huge. But it was perfect for grabbing and slapping and would be a wet dream to actually pound into.

Liam could barely wait.

Derek’s body moved, sensually grinding down into Liam’s lap. Meanwhile, Liam refused to stop toying with Derek’s ass. He pulled apart Derek’s cheeks, letting the cold air of the bedroom breeze against the heat of Derek’s tight virgin hole, and then he gave both cheeks a powerful slap—with just a little bit of werewolf strength added in. Liam squeezed hard, pressing his fingers into the meat. Liam was sure that if Derek were a human without werewolf healing, there would be all kinds of finger bruises and redness left behind, but the fact that Derek’s skin would heal up only encouraged Liam to do more.

Liam wished that he could step outside of his body and see everything as it happened from an outside perspective. He was sure it was beyond pornographic, but he tried his best to just imagine it as he continued to make out with Derek. He visualized what he looked like with a hulking alpha straddled on his lap. He visualized how fucking spectacular Derek’s fuckable fat ass looked, hanging out from the framing of the jockstrap’s black elastic. Liam wanted more. He wanted to see it. He wanted Derek so bad and was certain that Derek wanted it too….and even if he didn’t, _making _him want it wouldn’t be hard.

But that wasn’t the problem. The real problem was that having Derek in his lap was pushing Liam too close to blowing his load. And if he was actually going to cum before dinner was ready, he wasn’t going to do it accidentally from having Derek grind down on his cock. Maybe later—at a different time. But with Derek right there at Liam’s disposal, there were other things that could be done—things that Derek would be more than eager to do.

“I wanna see how much that mouth of yours can take.” Liam said, letting his eyes flash beta yellow. He pulled away from his kiss with Derek, tugging gently at the alpha’s bottom lip.

Immediately, Derek stood up from where he was situated on Liam’s lap and dropped down to his knees. He landed directly in-between where the beta’s legs were spread open, noting the cocky arrogance of Liam’s casual-looking positioning in the chair. There was something about the arrogance that fed into the heat of Derek’s blood. In Derek’s head, he vaguely remembered being the cocky one—the arrogant one, the one who held the power and control. The one who dished out the demands. But all of that—those experiences, that life, those feelings, were gone and replaced with needier desires.

Liam looked down to where Derek was on his knees, bringing his thumb up to press against the slickness of Derek’s bottom lip. He was so ready—so willing and so desperate, already salivating at the very thought of sucking a fat cock. Liam praised himself, patting himself on the back for being the one to devise the plan to take over Derek’s mind and rescue him from what would have been a life underneath Stiles’ thumb, opting to shift around Derek’s inner workings so that he could be the cockslut he needed to be.

“Dad’s cooking dinner downstairs, so keep quiet—” Liam started, running his hands through the softness of Derek’s hair, cradling the back of his head with a calming gentleness and bold encouragement. “—but you can be as messy as you’d like, Der. I want you to show me what a good cocksucking slut you can be.”

“I will.” Derek panted, nodding his head encouragingly. “_I will_.”

“Are you sure that this is what you want?” Liam asked, grabbing at his own bulge—giving it an enticing wag. “Once you have my cock shoved down your throat, there’s no going back. There’s no saying sorry to your boyfriend. He’ll look at you and you’ll look at him and you’ll know what a cheating whore you are.”

“I don’t—care. I want this. I want—_you_.”

A smirk quivered at the corner of Derek’s lips and then he slowly lowered his head forward and into the heat of Liam’s clothed crotch. With both of his hands curled into the waistband of Liam’s sweatpants, Derek tentatively pressed the sharpness of his nose into Liam’s front-side, nuzzling up against the throbbing heat of the beta’s challenging girth. He couldn’t help himself. He just needed a moment to pull himself together, to get closer and acquainted with Liam’s package.

Sure—back in the woods, Derek had held Liam in the grasp of his hands. He jerked Liam off with the best handjob that he knew how to give. But that was different. That was just hands. _This_ was something else. Derek was about to take Liam down his throat—to gag and choke and groan around the beta’s massive rod. There was some hesitation twinkling far off in the back of Derek’s head, but it was held back and out of the way of Derek’s otherwise unmistakable eagerness.

It didn’t take long before Derek’s body was overcome with anticipation, so much that he grew antsy down on his knees. He tugged down Liam’s sweatpants, but just enough so that he could actually get to where Liam was hard and leaking profusely with pre-cum. Liam’s shaft popped up with incredible force, striking Derek against the sharpness of his jaw. It took him by surprise, but only wowed him even more. As he rubbed away the ache from getting struck across the face, Derek sized up Liam’s tool—lapping at his lips and looking up to where Liam looked down upon him.

Derek tried to wrap one of his hands around Liam’s girth, but was unable to fully get his fingers all the way around it. From underneath the shadows of his own eyelashes, Derek looked up into the shine of Liam’s eyes, and then lowered his head, wrapping his lips around the leaking head of the boy’s cock. His eyes involuntarily fluttered closed as his brain short-circuited. It was something Derek had never felt before—an energy that stung throughout his body and pushed him forward, making him feel like he was constantly on edge and unable to string together simple words.

Instincts kicked into place—ones that Derek didn’t even know that he had. And the question as to whether or not Liam put them there or not remained unknown. Derek let his tongue swirl around Liam’s cockhead as he chased the steady stream of pre-cum that oozed from the beta’s leaking slit in thick rivulets. Derek was barely able to keep his groaned out satisfaction inaudible, but refused to overstep Liam’s command. He wanted to be good for Liam in every way possible.

Liam watched Derek ease himself down lower and lower, until a good few solid inches were stuffed inside of the alpha’s wet throat. Derek pulled up and off a few times, still untalented in breath control. But seeing as how it was Derek’s first time stuffing a cock down his throat, Liam didn’t care. It just added to the overall hotness of corrupting Derek. Instead of being nice and guiding and helping, Liam reached back behind where he was sitting and grabbed his workbook off the surface of his desk. Despite getting a blowjob, he needed to finish up his homework. And when he was finished with that, he’d really be able to give Derek something to moan about.

The sounds that spilled into the room were beyond pornographic. Derek was messy—just as he was instructed to be. He gagged and choked, occasionally shooting up and off of Liam’s massive length to nosily suck in clean breaths of air, only to sink back down and gag some more. There were loud slurps and grunted moans that kept getting cut off by Derek’s propensity for attempting to take more of Liam’s immense length than he could actuall handle. Though much to his own surprise, Derek managed to keep making progress, slowly training his throat and body to take most of what Liam offered.

Liam was caught between two worlds—schoolwork and sex. And _fuck_—he figured that life would probably be so much better if the two could just stay merged together forever. Liam read through his workbook, chewing on the eraser end of his pencil, whilst keeping his other hand firmly cupped at the back of Derek’s head to control the alpha’s cocksucking pace. Even then, Liam’s body would occasionally seize up and tighten, and he would nearly drop his homework down to the ground in a panic as he tried to regain control of his body before blowing his load too early.

Liam found something so fucking hot and enticing about his choice to multitask. The choice to spend energy focusing on schoolwork, rather than give all of his attention to the alpha knelt down between his spread thighs, gagging on his fat cock, was beyond hot. Liam could barely stand it. In fact, Liam wondered what people would think if they found out that he was using Derek—_Derek fucking Hale_, the alpha of Beacon Hills—as nothing more than a toy to fuck into, like nothing more than one of those dumb flesh-light sex toys.

And all the while, Derek was putting every last ounce of energy into giving Liam the best blowjob that he could perform. Derek kept his mouth sloppy and wet and quick—bobbing up and down the available length of shaft that he could fit down his throat. But that wasn’t it. Derek also kept his hands busy, making sure that he brought attention to the beta’s heavy cum-filled balls and to the few inches of cock that he couldn’t yet take down his throat.

Derek refused to stop sucking Liam off. His body worked and moved without much thought, instead operating on enthusiastic instinct. His tongue chased Liam’s taste. Derek chased the feeling of the boy’s girth stretching his jaw and driving in to tap against the back of his throat with each thrust. Derek was overwhelmed, but e didn’t want to stop himself. He refused to stop. Derek was a circuit board of pressure plates and triggers and every bob of Derek’s cocksucking motion sent sparks of pleasure twitching throughout his body.

But that wasn’t the only thing that spun Derek’s brain around with shocks of pleasure. Liam’s nonchalant attitude to getting sucked off made Derek felt all kinds of ways—some of which he couldn’t really put his finger on. There Derek was, on his knees like a damn whore, doing his best to choke down the biggest cock that he had ever seen before, and Liam just—_ignored_ him. Liam sat there, casually guiding Derek’s rhythm, all whilst focusing on his schoolwork…and it drove Derek mad…in all the right ways.

Derek could barely fathom it, but he wasn’t used to being ignored. He was an alpha—that meant that he was important. It meant that people paid attention to him. It meant that people followed his direction. And yet, Liam was the one calling the shots and Derek liked it—no, he _loved_ it. He was drunk off of it. As Derek ached his jaw around Liam’s beer-can shaft, he couldn’t help but feel his own cock throb hard and fast, completely untouched. Liam was doing his homework and Derek was there, sucking off the fresh new beta of his pack, reduced to nothing more than a fuck toy—like something that could be bought from a sex store somewhere downtown—and Derek loved it.

“Liam—dinner’s on the table! Get down here before it gets cold.” A voice suddenly called up from downstairs, catching both Liam’s and Derek’s attention. It was Liam’s father.

Liam cleared his throat and the tossed his homework back onto his desk. He tapped down onto the back of Derek’s head, telling him to stop what he was doing and to pull up for a moment. Derek reluctantly did as he was told, whimpering slightly as he raised his head and pulled away from Liam’s fat cock. Derek’s face was an absolute wreck. It was flushed red and sweaty. Derek’s lips were reddened and slightly puffy from all of the tough mouthwork, while saliva and pre-cum drooled from the corners of his over-stretched lips and down to his stubbled chin.

Liam laughed.

“_God_—your tits are fucking perfect.” The beta groaned, standing up from his chair. Liam stretched for a moment; cock still jut out towards Derek’s face and dripping with Derek’s spit. “Hurry up, push your tits together. I wanna fuck my cock in-between them and bust a load before I go downstairs.”

Derek just nodded dazedly; remaining knelt down on the floor of Liam’s bedroom. At once, he used his hands to grab onto both sides of his tits and then squeezed them together—towards the center of his torso—plumping up his muscles to provide the kind of cleavage that Liam was looking for. Derek felt like his body was on fire from the lust that pumped through his body. He could only stare up at Liam with a fucked out expression of hopeful readiness.

Without even missing a beat, Liam spat down into his hand and took hold of his cock with one of his hands, and then gently slid it into the cleavage of Derek’s tits. He cooed and clicked his tongue with gratification, immediately thrusting his hips forward and backward, effectively fucking into Derek’s tits. His pace started off rapid and only managed to speed up from there. The haywire passion of Liam’s youth kept him amped up and horny, without ever finding reason to cool down and slow down. Plus, Derek could take it. Hell—the dopey dazed look on Derek’s face meant he was in absolute _lust_ with it.

Liam’s hips kept up the rapid pace of thrusting, whilst the beta’s arms just dangled at his sides. He didn’t even need to use his hands to guide or to readjust because Derek’s tits provided such a tight channel to fuck his cock into. But just because Liam didn’t need to use his hands, didn’t mean that he couldn’t. Eventually, Liam’s fingers found themselves pinching at Derek’s hard nipples—tugging playfully at them, watching Derek’s bottom lip quiver from how good it felt.

And then an idea struck Liam like a 16-wheeler, plowing itself into his head. “Get these pierced, Derek.”

Derek’s eyes seemed to widen in momentary shock. His old inhibitions and morals and desires tried to spark up trouble, but found themselves unable to do so—thanks to Liam’s talented reworking of Derek’s head. This was Derek’s body—he had a tattoo, but that was it. He had never had a piercing. He had never wanted to get piercings….but now—he did. He wanted it bad. As he looked down to where Liam fucked his cock in-between his tits, Derek imagined himself with pierced nipples, and nearly blew his load right then and there, all over Liam’s carpet.

“Such a fucking tit whore.” Liam chuckled, pinching and tugging slightly harder at Derek’s nipples. “You’d like them pierced—no questions. You already can’t stop touching them; tugging at them…piercing them would only make people want to touch your pretty tits even more. So do it then.”

“I will.” Derek confirmed, completely devoid of hesitation. “I want them pierced.”

This—was new. Derek was lost for words, though not lost for whimpered sounds and hot pants of breath. Nobody had ever fucked his tits before. Derek knew that for certain. It was never something that Stiles wanted to do. In fact, Derek was certain that _that_ specific kind of creativity was beyond Stiles’ self-centered train of thought when the idea of sex came into the picture. The only part of Derek’s body that Stiles ever wanted to use was his cock, but Liam was different. Derek was positive on that one. Liam saw potential and room for improvement—he saw what could and should be changed.

Derek almost giggled, staring down to where Liam repeatedly thrust into his cleavage. Even as simple as it seemed, Derek knew that the obscene act was betrayal. And yet, Derek could only hold back a lust-drunken laugh as waves of heat ghosted across his skin. The feeling of Liam’s massive cock rubbing against his tits, soaking pre-cum onto his body, seeping that scent into him, it was cheating. Derek’s otherwise cloudy brain didn’t let him forget it. But it wasn’t that his brain hung on to that fact out of guilt. No—Derek wasn’t guilty. He didn’t feel that way whatsoever. The fact that he was cheating on his boyfriend, on Stiles, made everything so much hotter. It made Derek feel drunker and looser and more confident, ready and willing to ask for more of Liam.

Drool dripped down from Derek’s slack mouth, only to ooze down and splat against where the beta’s dick repeatedly pulled back and thrust forward—over and over and over again. Derek watched, absolutely mesmerized, turned on beyond his wildest dream. He felt his cock twitch and struggle to break free from where it remained trapped inside his jockstrap. And then Derek caught a sight of his own nipples, where they were already hard and aching to be tugged at and squeezed. Liam’s latest command fluttered around inside of Derek’s head, allowing him to imagine what they’d actually look like once he got them pierced.

Derek imagined small metal rings hanging from his nipples. He retreated into his own head for a moment to fantasize about how fucking good they’d feel to be played with like that. And then Derek started to think about his how getting his tits pierced would change his day-to-day life. Not much—but, people would notice. After all, his tight shirts would do nothing to hide the studded metal on both of his nipples. And especially when he took off his shirt for training or for bed…people would _definitely_ notice. They’d have questions, possibly concerns. Stiles would definitely ask about them, possibly even get pissy about Derek not consulting with him before making the leap.

But Derek didn’t care.

Liam suddenly groaned out loudly, pulling Derek away from his thoughts. With a few more quick and hard thrusts into Derek’s tits, Liam blew his load with a panted shout. He watched his cock jet out quick spurts of heavy cum across Derek’s upper chest and against his neck; only to pool and ooze down the cleavage that Derek refused to let up on maintaining until he was told that he could do so. Liam, however, provided some stunted thrusts, letting himself empty out the rest of his balls onto Derek’s sweaty skin.

“Liam! Downstairs! _Now!_” Liam’s father called out again, sounding more aggravated than the time before. But thanks to Liam and Derek’s werewolf hearing, they could tell that he wasn’t coming upstairs to physically drag his son down to the kitchen table.

Liam pulled his cock out from where it was plunged in-between Derek’s tits, letting a few final spurts of cum drip down onto Derek’s body. He stuffed himself back into his sweatpants and took a moment to catch his breath, almost as if he was trying to stall and figure out what he wanted to do next. Liam was hungry and his father would probably come upstairs _eventually_ if he waited any longer, but Liam didn’t want Derek to leave—not yet. There was so much more fun to be had.

Beaming down to where Derek was still kneeling down on the carpet, Liam took note of how desperate Derek still looked, even after getting skull-fucked and having a full load blasted across his tits. Liam looked over to where his bed was situated and then a new idea sparked into his head. He looked back down to Derek, then back over to his bed, and then back to Derek—a wicked grin forming on Liam’s face.

“I’m hungry, dude.” Liam noted, swiping his forearm across the sweat that had beaded up at his forehead from all of the intense activity. “I’m gonna go downstairs, but you can stay if you want.”

Derek stood up, looking down at his own cum-covered chest and pinched-up nipples. Liam’s announcement seemed to register as “okay, we’re done here” in Derek’s mind, nudging him towards cleaning up, redressing, and heading back to the loft. He ran his hands through his messy hair and then looked back to where Liam was standing—just as messy, minus all of the cum. “I should probably get back—you should have dinner with your dad.”

“No, no—you _should_ stay.” Liam interrupted. He gestured over to the bed. “You can wait on my bed if you want—and get yourself ready for me.”

Derek’s eyes drew glossier than before and his mouth became slackjawed again—recalled to the power of Liam’s control, not that he was that far away from it anyways. “I—” Derek muttered, instinctively reaching back with both of his hands to pull apart his fat cheeks, ghosting a couple of his fingers across his hole.

“I’ll be back.” Liam confirmed brightly. He stepped forward and softly clasped his hand on the back of Derek’s neck, pulling the man slightly downward, before locking their lips together in a quick—yet passionate kiss.

When the kiss was broken, Derek faltered backwards in a soft daze. He nodded and the turned around, flashing Liam a good look at his huge fuckable ass and then made his way across the room to where Liam’s bed was situated. The bed, itself, was somewhat of a mess. It was covered with random pieces of clothing, a few books, and some lacrosse gear, but Derek barely noticed. He was still bewitched by the kiss and the promise of a good fuck. So Derek just hopped up onto the mattress with a gentle spring upwards, immediately getting himself into a positioning that he felt satisfied Liam’s prompt.

It killed Liam to not just stand there in the threshold of his bedroom door for a moment so that he could watch whatever Derek was about to do. But dinner was calling him and if he was being honest with himself, he was fucking starved. Plus, it wasn’t like Derek was going to go anywhere. He was exactly where he needed to be. And inside of Derek’s mind, his decision to stay was entirely his own choice. He knew that he was where he wanted to be. There wasn’t anything powerful enough to change that.

Derek felt himself sink into the softness of Liam’s mattress. From where he was laid out, he watched the beta shut the bedroom door behind his exit. Derek stretched out and let one of his hands travel down his body. He ran his palm through his creamed-up torso, down his solid abs, and down past where he was still achingly hard and barely contained inside of his jockstrap. And then finally—Derek reached down to his puckered hole.

There was something new about the whole thing. Derek hadn’t done this before. He hadn’t felt this before. There was a part of Derek’s body and mind that was stuck—like bad cogs in a machine, grinding harshly against one another. Rogue thoughts fluttered around inside of Derek’s head. _You’re a top. You don’t get fucked up the ass. You fuck Stiles up the ass_. The thoughts demanded attention, but as Derek tried to grab onto them and understand them, they shattered and fell away, only to be replaced by Liam’s words of encouragement and his demands.

Confidence, mixed with a more powerful dosage of horniness quickly overtook Derek. Suddenly, his body was feverish and broken out in a lustful sweat. His head thumped and pounded hard and he could hear his blood pumping furiously throughout his body, down to his cock and down to his fingertips—in anticipation. His body was practically vibrating. Every one of his own senses felt suddenly heightened. It was beyond anything that Derek had ever really experienced in his life.

Derek pushed forward and curved his fingers further and further until he felt his index and middle fingers press themselves against the heat of his own hole. He gasped out loudly in surprise, trying his best to take in the new sensation. Derek stared up at the ceiling from where he remained laid out—stars blanketing his vision, mouth agape with sheer mind-numbing amazement. His eagerness then punched at his controls, forcing him to quickly jam both of his fingers into himself, knocking the wind out of his lungs in the process.

Derek huffed and gasped, almost like he was being suffocated—yet the gasps were laced with a fucked-out, breathless chirpy laugh. He couldn’t stop himself. He lost control over his body. Derek laid there, thighs splayed open, toes stuck in perpetual curl, with two of his fingers thrusting rapidly into his hole. Derek could barely breathe, let alone find words to say. He just kept babbling nonsense—meaningless and desperate whispers of “_please, please, oh god, fuck me_”. 

His thoughts were also so bundled up and fuzzy, but there were a few things that came through clean inside of his otherwise love-drugged head. Derek kept thinking about how selfish Stiles was for being the only one in their “relationship” to experience what it felt like for somebody to fuck into them. Derek wondered if his current pleasure was what Stiles felt during _his _first time bottoming. And even better, Derek wondered as to whether or not he was going feel as good, if not better, once Liam came back upstairs and plowed into him.

It didn’t take long before Derek’s body convulsed and he jammed his fingers further into himself. His cock throbbed and blasted streams of heavy cum through his jockstrap, only for the sticky jets to crash down against where Derek was already sticky with Liam’s spent load. Derek turned his head to the side and bit down into the available fabric of Liam’s bed comforter, as well as into one of Liam’s lacrosse jerseys, in a desperate attempt to muffle his cries of pleasure. Luckily, it worked.

Downstairs, Liam and his father sat across from one another—casually chatting as they ate their dinner. Liam did his best to seem engaged with the conversation, but he was really keeping his werewolf hearing tuned to what was happening upstairs in his bedroom with Derek. He could hear everything—just as crisp and raunchy as if he were standing right next to Derek. Liam could hear Derek’s muffled cries, his panted breaths, the spurts of cum that were ejaculated from Derek’s massive rod, and he could even hear the squelch of Derek’s cum-covered fingers fucking into his tight hole.

From what Liam’s dad could see, everything was right as rain. But Liam knew that that was only because his dad could see his top half. Underneath the table and thankfully out of his father’s sightlines, was Liam’s massive bulge—throbbing hard in the comfort of his sweatpants, reacting to every last sound of Derek from upstairs. Liam fought with himself to keep composure, fighting back the urge to close his eyes and concentrate, fighting back the anxious wash of sweat that began to cook up at his hairline.

Meanwhile, Derek tried to come down from his orgasm, but his body wouldn’t let him. He felt his eyes flutter back and forth between their normal color and alpha werewolf red. There didn’t seem to be any control. At least—not until Derek took a huge inhale of breath, nose still stuffed into Liam’s bedspread and lacrosse jersey. Liam’s scent immediately calmed him and let him catch his breath, but sparked even more heat inside of Derek’s body. Immediately, he felt his previously emptied balls begin to surge and brew with another load that was just waiting to be released.

It was weird to feel calmed by Liam’s scent. Not because it was weird to hook onto scents, that much was normal for werewolves, but because the only person whose scent Derek had ever truly felt calmed by was Stiles’. But now, as he writhed around atop the bed and stuffed the point of his nose further into the mesh of Liam’s lacrosse jersey, it was clear to Derek that Liam’s scent did a better job at catching his attention. Liam smelled like comfort and passion, meanwhile Derek couldn’t help but flip through his memories only to find that Stiles’ scent brought forth feelings of judgment and anxiety.

Derek reluctantly withdrew his own fingers from his hole as a whine simmered deep inside of his throat. He sat up on the bed for just a second and then reached over beside himself so that he could pick up Liam’s discarded jersey. Derek slipped it over his head, tugging it down his sticky torso, palming down the fabric in an attempt to straighten it smooth. The mesh breezed against his feverish skin, but nearly tore seams on account of the fact that Derek had a much larger and muscular physique when compared to Liam.

Liam was slim—lean, but relatively skinny. And his jersey was meant to accommodate a reasonable amount of stretch from the school-regulated bulky lacrosse padding worn underneath. And yet none of that mattered when it came down to Derek putting on the boy’s jersey. He was huge compared to Liam. The mass of his alpha-built muscle was nearly too much to manage, creating an embarrassing and nearly distorted stretch. 

But just as soon as the jersey was tightly settled the best that it could onto Derek’s body, Derek flung himself back down to his original positioning. He shot his hand back down to where his werewolf healing had tightened his hole again. Derek plunged three of his fingers into his heat this time; groaning out to the sound of the squelch and grinding his teeth down in pleasure as felt the stretch. The pace resumed quicker this time, more eager than before. And every time that his wrist started to feel sore, Derek’s werewolf healing fixed it right up again.

Liam finished up the last bit of steak on his plate and then helped his father clear the table. At the sink, Liam tried to press up closely to the bottom row of kitchen cabinets, trying to hide his huge boner from his father. It worked, though. Liam kept his ears perked up to the happenings upstairs as he scrubbed the dishes clean and placed them on the drying rack, telling his father that he was going back to his room to finish up his homework, before dashing upstairs and to his room.

As Liam opened his bedroom door, he was struck head-on by a wave of Derek’s scents. The mixed smell of arousal, sweat, cum, and cockslut desperation practically singed the hairs of Liam’s nose. But it fired up his brain and made him even more excited to finally take Derek Hale’s fat ass. Liam stepped into his bedroom and shut the door behind himself, locking it just in case. And then he stood there for a moment, back pressed against the wooden door paneling, just so that he could take a moment to survey the pornographic scene before him.

By the time Liam finished up his dinner and got back upstairs, Derek had cum three full times—with all of the cum on his body to show for it. Derek was still laid out on the mattress, unable to stop himself from finger-fucking his body even further into oblivion. It was obvious that Derek was addicted to the feeling of his hole swallowing up his digits and even more addicted to the shock of pleasure he got every time that his fingers pressed into his prostate.

Derek’s body was shaking uncontrollably, though. There were steady and rhythmic raspy gasps and barked out cries that chirped out of Derek’s mouth. But it was clear that Derek wasn’t exhausted or begging for rest. And as Liam stepped closer to the where Derek remained on the bed, Derek’s eyes flashed alpha red—holding onto the color without issue, instinctively pushing to show his status to the beta that was about to take his body and do whatever he wished with it.

Liam chuckled down to where Derek was fucked out. He took note of the fact that Derek was wearing his lacrosse jersey, feeling his own cock twitch inside of his sweatpants as he surveyed the way Derek’s skin shined with splatters of cum. “Shit—did you fuck yourself good? Did you get yourself nice and ready for my fat cock?”

“Feels—so _fucking _good.” Derek groaned. “I want it—so bad.”

“Get up, turn around and get yourself on all fours.” Liam instructed, watching at Derek’s wet fingers pulled away from where they were stuffed inside of himself. “Stick that fat ass out for me, Derek.”

Liam watched as Derek quickly shifted around, eager as hell to get his ass fucked like the good slut he was. Derek folded himself into the proper positioning, knelt down into the mattress on his hands and knees. He kept his head drooped slightly, towards the headboard of the bed. But Liam wasn’t interested that part of Derek—considering the fact that he had already taken Derek’s mouth once. Liam was far more interested in where Derek’s ankles and ass dangled off the bottom edge of the mattress. And that’s exactly where Liam arrogantly strode over to take up his own positioning, giving himself direct access to Derek’s ready hole.

Derek could barely stay still. He kept gently rocking back and forth on his knees, wiggling his ass further back into Liam’s direction. Liam just smirked and grappled his hands onto either of Derek’s fat cheeks. He squeezed at the skin, pressing his fingers deep into the cushion there, and then gave Derek a few nice slaps so that he could watch Derek’s ass wobble and shake from the force of the strikes. But more than anything, Liam couldn’t wait to see what Derek’s ass looked like while receiving punishing force from actual hip thrusts.

Despite Derek’s eagerness to get fucked, Liam didn’t rush. Yeah—he was also beyond turned on and practically busting out of his sweatpants. But he couldn’t stop staring down at the sight beneath him. Never once did Liam actually think that he’d get Derek Hale in his bed. And not just in his bed—on top of his bed, spread out like a fucking whore—completely naked, wearing nothing but a jockstrap that framed every bit of the ass that he usually stuffed away into awful jeans.

Liam still couldn’t even believe that the mind control worked, but he only wanted to laugh every time he thought about it. Alphas were supposed to be the toughest of the tough, the strongest, and the hardest to take down. But there Liam had Derek—laid out, spread out, covered in cum, fingers dripping with his own wetness, already dazed out of his conscious mind from the pleasure that his brain made him finger-fuck into himself, over and over again, while Liam stayed downstairs and had dinner with his father.

Liam pulled his sweatpants down and then hooked the elastic waistband underneath his balls, letting his hardened cock fall out and lewdly slap down against Derek. The beta took hold of his girth and bat it around the meat of Derek’s backside in a teasing manner, watching goosebumps momentarily prickle at Derek’s soft skin. And then, Liam placed his cock in-between Derek’s cheeks, hotdogging his cock, snickering to himself as he took note of how fucking huge his own cock was. Not even Derek’s fat ass looked like it could stand a chance.

Slowly, Liam thrust his cock against where it was sandwiched in-between Derek’s cheeks. Even without being inside of Derek’s heat, Liam was already close to blowing his load. There was something so hot and filthy about teasing Derek, giving him absolutely nothing but the promise that he was eventually going to shove in whenever he felt like, completely at random, and make Derek scream out in pleasure. Plus, it felt amazing—just taking it slow, thrusting forwards and backwards, and letting his cock drag.

Pre-cum oozed from the slit of Liam’s reddened cockhead, dripping down the ridge of Derek’s ass, eventually drooling over his winking hole. A growl purred inside Derek’s throat as it happened. Liam watched as it happened and watched as Derek tried his best to grind further backwards—a telltale sign that he was going mad from all of the teasing. And for a moment, Liam felt kind of bad that he was making Derek wait so long. But then he realized that Derek liked it, because Liam willed it so. Derek was a desperate, needy little cheating slut for cock because Liam made him that way.

In Liam’s eyes, there was nothing to complain about, but a whole hell of a lot to relish in. Derek had never been fucked in the way that he was about to get it. He was practically a virgin, and considering the fact that he was a werewolf with insane superhuman werewolf healing, that virgin tightness would be there waiting for Liam’s massive cock each and every time that they’d end up fucking. And Derek wouldn’t be able to get enough of it. He’d fall asleep at night mumbling to himself like a mindless slut, begging and pleading for more.

At once, Liam pressed the head of his leaking cock into Derek’s heat—watching as his own girth slowly stretched out the alpha beneath him. Liam tracked the movement with bated breath, biting back a moan, watching the way that his cock eased in. He fought back against his own eagerness to just thrust in and punch the breath out of Derek’s lungs, taking time to savor the moment as he slowly pushed into where Derek was pink and tight and untouched. Even though it was real and it was happening, Liam was still in disbelief. He couldn’t believe that he had Derek to himself and he couldn’t believe how amazing Derek felt.

“Ah—fuck.” Liam breathed, pushing forward until he was rooted inside of Derek’s heat, fully to the hilt, balls pressed up against Derek’s thick backside. He stopped for a moment and stared down to where Derek’s back muscles tensed and then relaxed, noting how quickly the alpha was adjusting to bottoming out for a cock that was fatter than his own ass.

“Please, move.” Derek muttered, biting down into where his mouth was laid sideways against the top sheet of Liam’s bed. His fingers gripped hard into the comforter, desperately trying to maintain control over his arousal. “Liam—please. Just move.”

Liam slapped down onto Derek’s ass, watching it bounce under his strike. He spread Derek’s cheeks and then peered down to where he was fully sheathed inside of the alpha. He clicked his tongue with satisfaction “You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes—” Derek growled, growing increasingly impatient. All the while, his hole involuntarily fluttered around where Liam’s girth kept him stretched out and full, filled to the brim with anticipation. “—I can’t stand it.”

“What a horny slut.” Liam said, teasingly rocking his hips around. Derek accidentally whimpered out in response. “That’s what you are now. You’re going to be horny for my cock all the time now, constantly thinking about it.”

Liam withdrew a few inches of his cock, feeling Derek’s body purr in response to the movement and loss of stretch. And then just as quickly as he pulled back, Liam slammed forward—refusing to hold back the speed and intensity. He happily drank in the shout of surprise that leapt from deep within Derek’s well worked over throat. Liam ground down his hips for a second time, rotating them slowly—yet punishingly. He wanted to make sure that the feeling of his cock imprinted itself properly inside of Derek’s new mindset.

It seemed to work perfectly.

Derek grappled onto the bed sheet that rested underneath his body, trying his best to hold back from howling out into the space of the bedroom. It took all of his strength and control to keep himself and his sounds at a reasonable level because he wanted to make sure that Liam’s father couldn’t hear anything untoward and become suspicious. But it wasn’t an easy thing to do. After all, Derek’s head was spinning. He could feel the beta deep inside of his body, throbbing and oozing out pre-cum, grinding forward into places that had never been touched by anybody or anything—not even by Derek, himself.

And for a beta werewolf that was still unpolished in the realm of control, Liam was still incredible when it came down to pushing at Derek’s buttons in just the right ways. His thrusts started off in a teasing way, but they didn’t stay that way for long. Eventually, they had Derek strung out in ecstasy. And then just when Derek was hanging off the edge of his own limit of contentment, Liam intensified his rhythm—putting much needed power into the way that he was handling Derek’s body.

Liam anchored his hands onto the sides of Derek’s hips and then ramped up the pace of his thrusts, beating hard in and out of Derek’s tight wet hole. He refused to slow down, only changing things up when he figured that Derek wanted it harder. Meanwhile, Liam studied the way Derek’s body shook with the force of the thrusts that were heavy-handedly pounded into his ass. He took note of the perfect way in which the alpha’s fat ass bounced around with each thudded strike—rippling and swaying, perfectly framed by the jockstrap that he was wearing.

“Oh, fuck yeah, Derek!” Liam cheered. “Take that fucking cock!”

Liam used one of his hands to press down onto Derek’s upper back—right where the spiral tattoo was inked into his sweat-shined tanned skin. And with some of his strength, Liam pushed down—making it so that Derek’s upper half was pressed down hard into the cushion of the mattress and so that his ass was even further stuck up into the air and into Liam’s rhythm. He couldn’t even help himself from blowing out a pant of breath in satisfaction at how much hotter Derek looked with his back bowed.

“I want you to arch your back. Good sluts arch their backs.” Liam instructed, maintaining his brutal pace.

“I am—a good slut.” Derek cried, trying to catch his breath in-between Liam’s savage rhythm. He arched his back and then moaned loudly upon feeling Liam deliver an incredibly sudden and precise thrust.

“Deeper, arch your back deeper, Derek.” Liam added, pushing more at Derek’s back. “You know this. You can feel it inside—how natural and _right_ this position feels.”

Derek felt his heart flutter inside of his chest as his body adapted to Liam’s command. He deepened the arch of his back, throwing his ass up higher into the air and into where Liam’s cock punched harder and harder into his prostate. For just a split second, Derek felt a strain on his muscle and his body, but just before he could even think about it, the tension vanished. It was like discomfort never existed. It was like his _body_ changed itself without thought. And now, Derek felt as though the deep arch of his back, fat ass on ample display, face shoved down into the mattress—all of it was normal and perfectly natural, like he had done it time and time again throughout his life.

“When I bend you over—when _anybody_ bends you over—you can’t help but get into this position. You don’t even have to think about it.”

Derek nodded the best that he could in response, despite being pressed down so hard into the mattress. He tried to hold onto the sheets for some stability, but found that it didn’t really help. Liam’s thrusts were far too rambunctious and powerful in their repeated delivery. In fact, the metal frame of the beta’s bed screeched and rocked around underneath the rapid movement from the two bodies on top of it. Meanwhile, the headboard repeatedly slapped against the wall to the tune of Liam’s hips striking forward against Derek’s thick ass. The mix of sounds rang through Derek’s ears, turning him on even more than he already was.

As Liam pounded into Derek, the alpha’s hardened cock trembled and bounced around where it was trapped underneath the tight fabric of the jockstrap he was wearing. Although, the power of Liam’s thrusts were so intense that Derek’s confined erection steadily swung up to slap against the ridges of his own abs. His pre-cum smeared itself against his stomach each and every time that it happened, but Derek didn’t mind the added mess. His powerful supernatural talent for picking up scents just took advantage of the opportunity and overloaded itself on the combined scents of an alpha and beta, as well as the smell of Liam’s exuberant enthusiasm.

There really wasn’t anything that Derek could do other than actively keep his position and push his ass up into the air even higher so that he could take what was being so deliciously hammered into him. At the same time, Derek’s hands continued to fail around atop the bed sheets, trying to grab onto something to hold—if not for stability than for the sake of clawing his fingers into something as he tried to keep all of his loud moans bottled up. But eventually, Derek’s hand swiped across some of the other discarded pieces of clothing and books that were still scattered on top of Liam’s messy bed, with his hand accidentally catching onto one of the heavier books near him.

Much to Derek’s surprise, it was the missing book from Stiles’ personal study—the same one that had been checked out from the Eichen House archives and the same one that housed a chapter about mind control. As his fingertips traced along the rough leather binding, Derek’s scrambled thoughts and feelings ticked around inside of his head. A steady groan eased out of Derek’s throat whilst confusion momentarily prodded at Derek’s brain. A fleeting concern of responsibility—a need to be responsible and get the book back to Stiles—tugged at Derek’s focus.

But then Liam drove forth an inhumanly harsh thrust, snapping Derek’s mind back into its new proper place—forcing the alpha to scream out in bliss. Liam smirked to himself and halted his cadence, allowing for the length of his own dick to remain stuffed completely inside of Derek’s slicked walls—certain that the head of his cock was jammed directly against Derek’s previously untouched prostate. And then, even as Derek started to twitch and squirm, Liam refused to pick up the pace. Instead, he waited until he heard the sound of Derek exhale and relax.

“What did you find there?” Liam questioned playfully, running his hands down Derek’s back muscles.

“It’s—it’s Stiles’ book.” Derek panted out. “I’ve been looking for it. Stiles—probably needs it back.”

“I doubt it.” Liam cooed, bringing his hands down to pull at the elastic of Derek’s jockstrap. He stretched it and then let it snap back against Derek. “Stiles doesn’t need it.”

Derek gulped. “He doesn’t?”

“You’re supposed to keep track of the things you care about, right?” Liam asked, grinding his hips further into where he was stuffed inside of Derek. “Stiles—doesn’t do that, does he? He lost his book—”

“Yeah—”

“—and what about you?”

“He lost—me.”A dry, breathless, and mindless chuckle puffed out of Derek’s slack mouth.

“Actually, I think you lost him.” Liam snorted. “—on purpose.”

Liam reached down and took hold of both of Derek’s wrists, pulling them back and crossing them behind the alpha’s arched back—almost like he was a cop arresting some kind of criminal. But even though Liam didn’t have any handcuffs to aid him, his werewolf strength was more than enough help. Liam knew that he was in control of the entire situation and the fact that he had Derek so completely locked down underneath his touch was nearly enough to make Liam want to blow his load. And if he did, that was fine—after it was all said and done, Liam was certain that he could push Derek’s mind into wanting to go a few more rounds.

Derek’s hole tightened in response to the way Liam pulled at his arms and put him into a different arrangement. He liked it. Hell—Derek fucking _loved_ it. He practically melted into Liam’s aggressive and dominating touch. When Liam began thrusting again, the only thing that Derek could really think about was what the rest of his pack would say or think if they walked in and saw him with his hands held behind his back and a young stud beta jack-hammering into his ass.

“You look so fucking hot—putting on such a hot cockslut show for me.” Liam noted. “You could cum just from this, just from knowing how hot you look all bent over and held down.”

“The pack—”

“I think they’d love watching their alpha getting whored out.” Liam asserted, slapping down at Derek’s ass, letting his cheeks wobble. “Scott, Theo, Jackson—they’d all like it. Your boyfriend—would be _mortified_.”

Liam ramped up his influence over Derek’s thoughts, electing to push some more fun into an already accomplished mindscape. He reached forward and ghosted his fingertips along the nape of Derek’s neck, right where he had previously stuck his claws in order to first take control over Derek’s mind—not because he needed to claw Derek again, but just because Liam liked to think about it. That tiny space on Derek’s body was practically ground zero, the doorway into turning the alpha of Beacon Hills into the desperate-to-please whore than he now was.

“It turns you on to just think about, Derek.” Liam started, reclaiming his hold on where Derek’s hands were being held behind his own back. “Doesn’t it?”

“It—it—” Derek muttered, though he was slightly unsure all thanks to the fact that his brain was racing around to bend and change to fit what Liam was now cleverly pushing into his new mental state.

“It could happen anywhere. That’s why you find it so fucking hot. I could take you at your loft, on your bed, on your desk, maybe on the ground—have you all spread out, sobbing, begging me to fuck you harder…” Liam rasped. “—and the pack would walk in, completely unsuspecting. And what would they see?”

Derek breathed out a satisfied noise. “Me—they’d see me.”

“See you doing what?”

“Getting fucked…destroyed…bred deep…by you.”

“What else, Derek?” Liam prodded. “You know what else they’d see. You’re not shy. Tell me what they’d learn about you.”

“They’d know—they’d know that I’m a cheating slut.” Derek groaned gleefully, fucking his ass backwards to meet Liam’s thrusts. “They’d know that I sneak about behind Stiles’ back for you…so you can fuck me.”

Liam grinned, watching as the new fantasy wormed itself into Derek’s once sturdy mind. “And you love it—being seen that way? Even though you’re supposed to be responsible, you can’t help fantasizing about everybody knowing—about your boyfriend knowing…”

“Stiles—”

“He’d probably almost pass out from anger, but he still wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off of you getting your ass hammered into by a fat cock.” Liam explained seductively. “Nobody would be able to take their eyes off of you, but Stiles—he’d be stuck, mad and unable to find his words, but he’d know….”

Derek groaned out, sucking in breath. “He’d know….”

“Tell me, Derek.” Liam commanded.

“He’d know….that he lost me.” Derek said. “That I lost him….on purpose.”

Amazingly, Liam’s father remained ignorant to what was happening upstairs in Liam’s bedroom, despite all of the dirty talk and noises that seemed to rattle the walls and windows. Liam happily took advantage of his father’s unwillingness to investigate, pushing himself even harder than before. As Liam kept Derek’s hands restrained, he dipped into some of his own werewolf speed and strength, striking hard and unfathomably fast against the cushion of Derek’s ass. And as the slapping sounds, grunts, moans, and slurred out dirty talk intensified, Liam only took Derek harder.

Liam occasionally shushed Derek for saying something or moaning something a bit too loud, but his guidelines for what sounded “too loud” were impeccably flawed. For the most part, Liam didn’t even really care; he just didn’t want to bear the burden of having to talk his father down from a panic. Although, if that were something to happen, Liam was somewhat sure that he could “reset” his father’s mind and make everything okay again. Regardless—Liam was far too lost in how fucking fantastic it felt to drive his dick into Stiles’ misplaced alpha boyfriend. And whether or not it was the instinct of werewolfhood or boyhood that Liam was getting lost to, he couldn’t really tell.

A mixture of both, possibly?

“Keep moving—keep throwing that fat ass back on my cock.” Liam instructed, pulling on where his own hands remained gripped onto Derek’s restrained hands.

Derek’s body jolted with a punishing shiver. Another wave of arousal flashed across his naked skin, sending sparks of pleasure to where Liam’s cockhead met his prostate. He cried out, unable to stop his own body from desperately chasing the pleasure that Liam fucked into him with thrust after thrust. And from where he was laid out on top of the bed, Derek managed to look back over his shoulder to where Liam stood behind him—noting the beta’s disheveled state. Derek immediately found himself captivated by the hungry and arrogant spark inside Liam’s bright yellow beta eyes.

Even though Derek had been getting railed for a substantial length of time, he wasn’t yet used to the feeling of something so huge and so direct stretching him open in all of the right ways. Derek knew that if he were human, he would be a pile of slush atop his own beta’s bed—given how brutally precise Liam kept his talent. Derek’s body fumed hotter with arousal every time that he could feel the heat of Liam’s pulsating cock slam into his prostate. He could even feel sparks momentarily sting the backs of his eyes—causing them to briefly blur and water.

Derek’s mind drifted back to the thought of Stiles and the pack stumbling in to find him getting railed by Liam. And even though it was a fantasy that hadn’t been prevalent inside of Derek’s mind until not more than a few minutes ago, Derek was none the wiser. As far as Derek knew, he had _always_ had that fantasy. He had always gotten hot and bothered to the thought of his own pack and significant other finding out that he was actually a shameless cheating slut.

Derek let his eyes close for a moment, letting the fantasy turn itself into a bright moving picture that he could watch play out on the backs of his eyelids. Derek imagined it would be sometime at night, probably at a time where the rest of the pack would be off doing something important. But instead of playing along, Derek would be back at his loft, bent over the edge of his desk, getting fucked three ways from Sunday by the runt of his pack. Derek imagined all of the sounds that he would make, all of the things that he could say, and all of the commands that Liam would give him.

And then, everybody would suddenly barge into the loft—completely unannounced. Derek imagined it as clear as day. In his head, he could see everybody’s faces. He could see Boyd’s stoic judgment, Isaac’s embarrassed red cheeks, Jackson’s knowing grin, and so on and on. But then came Stiles. Derek’s imagination held nothing back—pushing forth a look of horror stained onto Stiles’ freckled face, mouth gaped open in shock, eyes mixed with feelings of anger, and sadness, and disappointment, and even some embarrassment. But Derek imagined looking at Stiles—seeing him, seeing his reaction….

Suddenly, Derek’s whole body tensed up and he cried out—slipping over the edge and crashing into his own orgasm. He cock jolted and pulsed—spewing out fierce jets of fresh cum that seared hot against where it landed on Liam’s sheets. His breath caught itself high in his throat, almost making him feel winded. But it did absolutely nothing to stop Derek from involuntarily thrusting his own ass backwards into Liam’s continued thrusts—chasing even further stimulation from the beta’s gut-stretcher cock, unapologetically hanging onto the mental image of Stiles watching him get fucked by somebody else.

Whilst Derek’s body writhed and twisted around with a brutal orgasm, Derek’s mind seemed to do the same. A litany of repeated and confused-sounding contradictions mumbled quietly out of Derek’s mouth—noting the way that his mind had changed, from where it started before the mind control, to where it now was. Figments of denial and repression were quickly twisted around and turned into droned affirmation that everything was good and right inside of Derek Hale.

“No – no – ye—yes, yes – oh god – yes—fuck….” Derek mumbled, almost silently—chasing the punishing pleasure of Liam’s cock rubbing against his prostate. And even as Derek’s own orgasm continued to spill into the sheets beneath him, Derek remained lost.

Liam combed his hands through his hair and kept careful attention down to where he continued to hammer into Derek’s thick ass. He felt the alpha’s hole clench down onto his girth and felt Derek’s body rock itself through an intense orgasm which refused to end. Liam felt his own body grow increasingly hotter and sweatier as he found himself captivated by the hot way in which Derek’s messy hair flopped around with the continued brutal thrusts.

And then without as much as a stifled shout, Liam found his own orgasm. Better yet—Liam’s orgasm crashed into him. It was just as brutal as Derek’s, if not slightly more intense all thanks to the fact that Liam got off to knowing Derek was_ his _fat-assed cockslut for as long as he wanted. Liam shoved every inch of his massive cock into Derek’s hole—spearing right up into the alpha’s abused prostate. And as he felt Derek’s body shutter and writhe around, Liam felt himself hose hot cum into Derek’s hole—burning sticky white into the pink of the alpha’s stretched walls.

Liam kept himself stuffed into Derek’s hole and rode out his orgasm, offering up a casual sway of his hips that nudged out sweet sounds from Derek in response. But as Liam’s breathing settled, his body refused to do the same. Even after a solid handful of minutes passed, Liam’s cock continued to pump out hot cum into Derek’s overworked hole, so much so that Liam watched as his cum overflowed and sputtered and spattered out from where his massive girth remained plunged deep into Derek’s body. Liam could barely believe it—but he couldn’t help but find the reality of the situation incredibly hot.

All the while, Derek’s body moved without instruction—slowly pushing back into where Liam remained. It was a clear and desperate attempt to keep Liam’s cock right where it was, but it happened instinctually. Derek’s mind was still mush—entirely muddied up with post-orgasmic bliss. As he laid there on the bed with his eyes glassy and a stupid smile on his fucked out sloppy face, Derek’s body unapologetically chased more of what Liam had to give. It didn’t even matter that Derek’s body wasn’t yet recuperated and refreshed.

“Damn—you’re still so hungry for it.” Liam noted, finally withdrawing his cock from Derek’s hole. He caressed both of his hands onto both of Derek’s fat cheeks; spreading them apart just enough so that he could watch his own spent load ooze down the backs of Derek’s thighs.

Derek hummed. He looked over his shoulder, flashing his dopey smile in Liam’s direction, and then gazed down to where the boy’s cock hung prominently at his crotch—still hard and dripping with cum. A corner piece of Derek’s brain told him that he should probably get dressed and head back to the loft. After all, it was getting late and it was a school night, which meant the responsible thing to do would have been to let Liam retire for the night by his lonesome. But at the forefront of Derek’s thoughts was the desire to feel Liam inside him again and again—for as long as he could take it.

“Well—” Liam glanced over to his bedside table and the small alarm clock that was sitting on top of it, taking note of the time. “—I don’t think you have anywhere important to be.”

Liam slapped a red palm into the meat of Derek’s fat ass, using it as non-verbal direction and instruction to tell Derek that it was time to switch up positioning. And like the good bottom slut that he now was, Derek followed the direction without as much as a contemplative bite of his bottom lip. As Liam moved and walked around to the side of the bed, Derek stood up from his positioning and froze in place—patiently waiting on Liam’s further instruction.

Derek stood completely still—almost as if he was idling. His eyes remained glossy and unfocused, making it seem as though he was staring directly through everything that was happening around him. And yet, there was still obvious life and energy coursing through the man’s body, Liam could see that much. Derek’s chest expanded and deflated, slowly and peacefully, as his breathing steadied itself—unintentionally stretching the fabric of Liam’s lacrosse jersey that remained stretched across the muscle of his torso.

At the same time, Derek found himself mindlessly palming down to where his huge cock was pulsating within the jockstrap’s front. As he stood there and watched whilst Liam hurriedly shoved off the clutter of clothing and books that were atop the available bed, Derek languidly stroked himself, swiping his thumb across the sensitive slit of his cockhead. Each and every time that he did so, Derek’s balls tensed and surged and a delightful wave of euphoria washed over Derek’s body as his cock spurt out pre-cum against the pad of his thumb.

It really only added to the mess that Derek was already sporting. Derek, himself, was already covered in cum thanks to having sucked off Liam and served as a perfect opportunity for the beta to tit-fuck him. And thanks to Liam’s powerful breeder balls, Derek had rivulets of hot cum pouring down the backside of his thighs and legs, right down to splat onto the floor of Liam’s bedroom. But it wasn’t as though Derek was complaining. He definitely wasn’t. If anything, Derek thought as though his cum-lacquered skin was a badge of honor and he wore it proudly—elated to know that he was able to serve as Liam’s own personal toy and cum rag.

Liam hopped up onto his bed and then stretched himself out completely, propping up his head on the stack of his own pillows that were settled at his headboard. Liam curled his arms behind his head and took a moment for himself—just to relax and drink in the sight before him. Derek was standing directly across from him, at the foot of the bed, covered in sweat and cum, dressed up in nothing but a black jockstrap and a way too tight maroon lacrosse jersey. The alpha’s massive cock and balls were barely contained inside the front pouch of the jockstrap, which made Derek just look that much more of a whore.

“Are you just going to stand over there—?” Liam asked cockily, wrapping both of his hands around his fat cock. He waved it around in Derek’s direction, watching the way that Derek’s eyes tracked the lewd movement. “—or are you going to come over here and fuck yourself on my cock?”

The same dopey smile from before kept itself marked on Derek’s face as his body leapt into an energized desire to satisfy Liam’s suggestion. With his eyes locked onto where Liam was laid out on the mattress, arrogantly waving his cock around in the air, Derek’s hole twitched. He quickly crawled up onto the bed and over to Liam, maneuvering himself into the perfect “cowgirl” positioning without even being asked. Derek slotted both of his knees down into the cushion of the mattress on either side of Liam’s hips, making sure to mind his own weight so that he didn’t accidentally crush Liam below.

Liam snickered to himself, biting at his bottom lip. From his angle, Liam had a more than perfect view of Derek’s plump tits as they flexed underneath the mesh jersey that he continued to wear. Liam still wasn’t used to having Derek Hale as his personal plaything, and there was no saying when he’d end up getting used to the reality of it. But one thing that Liam knew for certain was how fucking turned on the reality of the situation made him.

As Derek’s expectant face grew redder than it had been beforehand, Liam thrust his throbbing cock into the crevice of Derek’s fat ass, though he didn’t aim for actually slipping inside the alpha’s already used hole. Instead, he teased Derek and refused to stop, looking up into the half-lidded desperation of the older werewolf’s eyes. And then when it became obvious that Derek couldn’t hold out anymore, Derek took initiative into his own hands—in a literal sense.

Derek reached behind himself, using one of his hands to take a firm grasp of Liam’s girth. He canted his hips up just slightly and then lined up the beta’s cock with his own hole—feeling his body flutter light with anticipatory jitters. And without even being instructed to “move” or “begin”, Derek fed Liam’s cock directly into his tight and willing heat—taking the boy right down to the base with no problem whatsoever. He only settled still for a few seconds in order to adjust his posture and then immediately began riding Liam at a steady pace.

Liam immediately clasped both of his hands at Derek’s hips, groaning out loud whilst Derek’s heat enveloped him. Despite having been already fucked open once and filled to the brim with cum, Derek’s werewolf healing put him right back to virginal tightness—much to Liam’s immense pleasure. As Derek bounced up and down, Liam felt like it was right back to square one with Derek, right back to fucking that ass open for the first time. And in some ways, it was like the first time again—all except for the fact that Derek’s courageousness and eagerness seemed even more intense than the first time around.

“Ride that fucking cock, Derek!” Liam called out, pressing his fingers harder into where he gripped at Derek’s sides.

While Liam tried to maintain the rhythm of Derek’s movement, it was more than clear that Derek knew exactly what he was doing and where he was going. Liam didn’t really need to do much except lounge back and let Derek fuck himself completely stupid. All the while, the bouncing movement only intensified as Derek took the reins of his own fucking. It was clear that Derek was beside himself, unable to truly think about anything other than getting himself off to the feeling of Liam’s massive dick stretching him open for a second time.

Derek bounced up and down at a rapid and hungry pace, refusing to pay attention to the incredibly lewd and loud sound that his fat ass made as it smacked down against Liam’s hips. Each time that Derek came down and took Liam’s cock down to the base, stinging pleasure walloped his body in maddening ways—making his own body feel as though surges of electricity shot through his blood. But Derek didn’t stop, nor did he slow. He fucked himself so hard and so good that his own fingertips and toes twitched and curled uncontrollably.

Liam’s cock drove right through Derek’s tightness and barraged the alpha’s prostate, repeatedly. Derek gasped out each and every time, sometimes feeling so lightheaded and overwhelmed and shaken to the core that he was on the edge of sobbing out. Still, at the mercy of the beta’s massive girth and length, Derek couldn’t stop himself from moving. His heartbeat pounded as though it was about to break out of his sweat, cum covered chest. His body flared hot and tingled with searing heat. His mind—as cloudy and new as it was, remained focused on its new mindless addiction of fucking itself into a stupor.

As Liam retained his casual position, he stared up and watched Derek fuck himself further into a dopey trance. The positioning was perfect for a spectator and despite the fact that Liam was enjoying the way that it felt to have his cock plunged deep into Derek’s dripping tightness, he also found himself entranced watching the ways in which Derek’s body reacted and evolved as time passed on by. Liam knew that he had Derek in his hold and could have him whenever, wherever, but he wanted to take mental snapshots of everything that he could—just because.

Derek looked hot—caught somewhere between breathless exhaustion and mindless arousal. His tongue was practically flopping out of his slack mouth like he was some kind of slutty mutt, and yet the fucked out little smile refused to remove itself from Derek’s otherwise debauched face. Additionally, all of the bouncing around had Derek’s pinch-worthy tits thumping every time that he slammed down onto Liam’s cock. Luckily for Derek, it didn’t really take that long before he felt Liam’s hand reach up and cup onto his tits, passionately massaging them with the strength of his hands.

“You were made for this, Derek.” Liam slurred, thumbing up at Derek’s nipples.

Derek tossed his head back, exposing his throat. He swallowed hard and brought both of his own hands up to cover where Liam’s were already placed on his chest. “I fucking love it.” He muttered, though not quite up to Liam’s specifications.

“Louder, Derek.”

“_Fuck_—I fucking love it!” Derek repeated, adding a much needed boom to his voice.

Liam gripped his hands into the mesh lacrosse jersey that was ridiculously stretched across Derek’s chest, using it as leverage to pull Derek downward until the two of them could both connect their mouths together in a sudden kiss. And as their lips crashed against one another, Derek’s cock-riding rhythm refused to falter. He kept at it—just as intensely as he had been for the past fifteen minutes or so—enthusiastically chasing Liam’s release.

A blip of a thought casually sparked itself inside of Liam’s own head. _Cum inside me again—please_. It was a thought, not from Liam’s own head, but from inside the maddened patchwork of Derek’s cum-coated new brain. At first, the intrusive thought took Liam by surprise, but it didn’t scare him. He knew that he had complete control over Derek’s morals and inhibitions and actions all thanks to the technical claw-in-neck work that went down during the woodlands search. But Liam had gotten so distracted by Derek riding his cock that he had forgotten that he always had access to Derek’s thoughts.

Much to Liam’s pleasure, it was a one-way deal. Liam could push thoughts and feeling into Derek’s head, as well as he could pick up on what Derek was trying his best to think. In which case, Derek was desperate to feel another sticky wave of fresh cum fill him up to the brim. In fact, as far as Liam could really tell, that was the only big thing stewing around inside of Derek’s once completely sturdy mind. It pleased Liam to know that the walls of Derek’s fortressed mind had disintegrated. From responsible and headstrong alpha—to cum hungry whore.

“Oh—you want another load in your tight ass?” Liam purred, momentarily breaking the kiss. Derek moaned, letting his head fall forward into the nape of Liam’s neck. “Show me you want it, Derek. Show me you deserve another load dripping from that fat ass of yours.”

Bright red flared inside of Derek’s lustful eyes as he beamed down into Liam’s bright beta yellow. A powerful and focused look of determination whipped across the alpha’s face. He pulled back from where he had been nuzzling the side of Liam’s neck, straightening up his posture, and doing his best to kick up his speed and rhythm to its actual limits. Derek’s lips pressed together in a thin line, but he didn’t look pensive or stuck in complicated thought. He looked serious—yes. But he also looked desperate and starved and exhausted. His eyes glowed red, but there was still a twinkle of a whore’s need to please stuck inside.

All of a sudden, Derek and Liam’s bodies violently shook and their orgasms simultaneously hit. Liam’s hips snapped upward and Derek’s thick ass slammed down—leaving one final, resounding smack to echo throughout the dimly-lit bedroom. It seemed to catch both of the werewolves by surprise, as neither of them expected to blow their loads together in some kind of ball of collective orgasmic energy release. But it did and it blew their minds.

Liam looked around at the sight before him through somewhat teary-eyed vision. He looked down to where Derek’s fat cock pulsed and spit thick jets of cum out—only for all of it to land on top of Liam’s own clothed torso. At the same time, Liam worked himself through his own orgasm and tried his best to grind up into Derek’s tightness, feeling himself unload yet another heavy load into the already abused and painted walls of Derek’s heat.

Derek, however, froze in place the moment that he felt Liam’s load begin to hose down his insides. He stopped moving entirely—no sway of the hips, no bouncing, no movement whatsoever. Instead, an extended, breathless moan escaped through his reddened lips. His eyelids twitched involuntarily. His chest expanded and compressed with heavy breaths. And overall, his entire body jerked with rhythm jolts to the tune of his own pulsed cumshots that spewed and spewed continuously to stain the fabric of Liam’s sweat-soaked t-shirt.

“Oh—oh—_fuck_.” Derek muttered in drawn out, quick syllables.

For a moment, Derek looked less like an alpha and more like some kind of malfunctioned machine. A sexbot with a fuse blown inside all of his complicated circuitry, unable to fully process what he was supposed to do next. Meanwhile, Liam smiled to himself and drank in the sight of Derek’s mind being entirely incapable of even registering the insane of amount of pleasure that was ripping itself through his body. The smell of arousal and pleasure and satisfaction wafting off of Derek’s flexed and sweaty body was practically singeing Liam’s sinuses.

Liam splayed an open palm onto Derek’s stomach for no other reason other than to see if he could feel himself throb inside where his cock was plunged solidly into Derek’s body. He could feel Derek’s breathing and heartbeat, but not anything else. The soft touch and skin-to-skin contact, however, seemed to jumpstart Derek into some movement. Almost instantaneously, Derek’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed forward onto Liam’s body, letting out a quivered exhale of breath into the nape of Liam’s neck—falling into unconsciousness.

It surprised Liam to watch Derek go lax and conk out so suddenly. Even more so, it was hilarious that Derek passed out from having such an intense orgasm. But just as much as he was surprised, Liam was also insanely impressed with himself. He actually managed to fuck Derek Hale’s brains out—and he was more than certain that nobody else had been able to do that before. But what was even better was that Liam knew that it wouldn’t be the only time that he’d fuck Derek into a stupor. Derek would want it again.

Liam shoved Derek’s lax form off of his own body, letting the alpha casually roll over onto the other half of the mattress. He stood up from where he had been laid out and then stared down to where Derek was laying—taking another mental snapshot for himself. Derek looked so hot, still wearing the horrendously stretched out maroon lacrosse jersey. Liam loved how fucked out and sloppy his new cumslut looked, especially with how his massive ass remained on display—still framed by the black jockstrap that he had on. But the best part was that even though Derek was knocked out for the night, there was still a dopey smirk on his messy lips.

Quietly, Liam picked up a spare blanket from the floor and then laid it over Derek’s exhausted body—making sure that Derek wouldn’t be cold as he recuperated and bought back his energy. Liam stuffed his own spent cock back into his sweatpants and then made his way across his cluttered bedroom to his door, twisting open the handle and opening it. As he stepped through the threshold, Liam looked back towards Derek’s sleeping form for a moment, and then shut the door behind himself—heading off to the hallway bathroom to take a much needed shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> If you have any comments, critiques, and suggestions, please feel free to leave them down below. I try to respond to all of the comments that I get so that you guys don't feel left out. As always, I always appreciate kudos. Thanks!
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter. I appreciate all forms of critique and comments, kudos too (of course). Tell me what you think about it and if you're interested to see how the story progresses. It's a new kind of fic for me, but it has been incredibly fun to write, thus far. 
> 
> Thanks!


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